


All or Nothing

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Acephobia, Camp, Canon-typical child assault, Crack, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Memes, Pining, Prejudice, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: An asexual spark and a pansexual werewolf discover they are mates and live awkwardly ever after.Or.I turned my favorite Teen Wolf (and a few other) memes into a story.





	1. Chapter 1

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Derek both hated and loved his job. As a flower shop attendant his job was to listen to the demands of his customers, fetch, and artfully arrange. Some of his co-workers would explain their reasoning to their customers, but most of the time Derek just pointed at the shops huge binder full of flowers with their meanings in various cultures, situations, etc. It was an annoyingly large binder that most of the staff didn't use because it wasn't well organized, but Derek had it memorized if only so he could back up his silent suggestions.

 

The problem was that Derek was painfully introverted. Not shy. There's a difference between introverted and shy. Derek didn't blush or stutter or get nervous around sexy people, he just woke up already fucking done with them. Not just sexy people, though. All people. People were fucking exhausting and Derek was THROUGH with them from about a minute before his alarm went off in the morning. After a full day of taking care of their demanding needs he was mentally and emotionally exhausted. All he wanted was to be alone with his books and some tea or coffee, depending on his mood.

 

The problem was, his alone time in his awesome open concept apartment was about to come to an end. The ownership had changed and the new owner had found a loop hole in the lease that would allow him to raise all their rent at the end of the year. In three months Derek would either have to move to something _significantly_ smaller or find a room mate. The apartment was a loft set up, with the second floor meant to be the bedroom(s), but there wasn't a lot of privacy throughout it. Derek had fallen in love with the brick and metal design, the huge windows that let in so much light all year round, and the vast beautiful space that made sure he never felt closed in even if he only left the house for work and the occasional food run. Giving it up wasn't going to be easy, but he'd never find a person to share that kind of space with who wouldn't make him completely insane.

 

Derek's musing while trimming displays was interrupted by a man practically shoving his hands _through_ their glass front door as he burst in with his face contorted in fury. He stomped up to the counter, pinned Derek in place with his flashing amber eyes, and growled out his words so convincingly that Derek sniffed the air to see if he were a werewolf. He wasn't, but he definitely knew one and was part of a pack. He was wearing black dress pants and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His arms were decorated in swirling black tattoos and Derek was almost positive he saw one move.

 

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?!” He practically shouted, breathing hard and looking fit to kill. A spark of energy flowed through the room and the light over Derek's head flickered.

 

Derek's co-workers all took a collective step away from the tempestuous fellow and one muttered that Derek was the best at using flower type to communicate and then fled to the back to 'get a vase'. Derek's eyebrows dropped a bit in disgust at Adrien's cowardly retreat and he pushed his display aside, pulled out his binder in case he had to indicate meaning to the spastic spark in front of him, and reached for the first blossom.

 

“I can't believe her!” The stranger ranted, turning his back on Derek to begin pacing the area. He was tugging on his hair and flailing his hands about in obvious distress. He had gone from smelling angry to mournful, “She fucking _played_ me! I've known her since high school. I supported her goals! I braided her hair! We've been together since right after graduation and I thought this was _it_ for me! Marriage! Picket fence! Dog and ten cats! Okay, no dog. I hate dogs. Just the ten cats. ARGH! I WAS GONNA TAKE HER NAME! Then what does she do?”

 

The man whirled on Derek, breathing hard and Derek held up a conveniently held foxglove. To his shock the man pointed at it dramatically.

 

“YES! That! Exactly! She went all 'my family expects me to marry a certain type of person'! I thought we'd left that shallow, insincere bullshit in tenth grade! YEARS together, and I was never her end goal? Just a convenient, comfortable sofa in her basement that she wasn't willing to put in her den where guests could see it?! UNBELIEVABLE!! This calls for ultimate, _but classy_ revenge! Do you have any of those flowers that smell like rotting corpses? Can we sneak one in? Do I have to special order it? I know I look like a spaz right now, but I can be patient for the right level of outrage, shock, and horror!”

 

Derek found himself nodding along with a small smirk on his lips. The guy's passion was... funny, actually. His descriptions made him want to laugh, but he didn't want to be rude. The monologue was making his job easier, and he was surprised to find the guy knew that foxglove meant insincerity.

 

“I just... I can't believe I _loved_ her! And when I asked her why, do you know what she said to me?” The whip-thin guy put his hand on his hip and bobbed his head, “That it's because of my _sexuality_. Yeah. The love of my life is ace phobic!”

 

“Ace?” Derek asked, surprising them both by offering any kind of commentary. His co-worker actually gaped at him from the other counter across and to the right.

 

“It's short for asexual,” He waved his hand dismissively but his mood had turned so deeply melancholy and ashamed that Derek frowned deeply, “It isn't even that she's unhappy with our sex life, either. She wants me to go back in the closet. She wants me to _hide_ who I am. Stop talking about it. Stop being _loud_. Do you know what I do for a living?”

 

Derek shook his head.

 

“I'm a fucking rights advocate. I work for a law office. Her _mom's_ law office. In the department that defends queer rights.”

 

“Wow,” Derek replied, eyebrows going up.

 

“Yeah. That makes shutting up about my queerness a _little tough_ , doncha think?”

 

Derek nodded dutifully and indicated the potential options for his perusal. The man sighed, leaned his hands against the counter, and stared down at them sadly. Derek was worried that he wasn't going to want the same bouquet anymore with how rapidly his mood had declined.

 

“I'm gonna have to change jobs and move,” He said softly, “I'm going to have to drop my dream of marrying the Goddess Lydia and start _dating_ again. Do you know how hard dating as an asexual _man_ is?”

 

Derek shook his head, starting to feel uncomfortable again. He was going to have to _talk_ to this guy, wasn't he? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

 

“I'm sorry, you don't want to hear my sob story,” The stranger sighed, “I'm just so fucking devastated. She's a socialite bitch and I fell for her glitz hook, line, and sinker. And the end results are me being fucking devastated and her _shaming me_ and telling me to take time to re-think my sexuality and get back to her. Like I'm a client who didn't file the right paperwork or some shit. _Get back to her?_ More like get back _at her.”_

 

Derek smirked a bit at that and the young man looked up at him, eyes damp but mouth twitching a bit in an attempted smile. He gestured to the flowers in front of him, “Can you make it bigger?”

 

Derek nodded firmly and began doubling it from bouquet to their largest size vase.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He'd never seen someone with a driver's license and credit card that didn't have a first name on them. Just the initial M. It was weird and probably illegal and made him chuckle again. He liked the idea of fighting back against society's bullshit... from his living room, and preferably alone. Speaking of alone... Derek _might_ have jerked off while thinking of him... but only vaguely and mixed with lots of other people.

 

Other than that he didn't spare the funny guy much thought after that day. Not until a week later when the guy wandered in again, but he was dressed very differently this time. In fact, Derek almost didn't recognize him because his face had tattoo's climbing up the neck and around his jaw. Literally. He also had a smattering of moles that hadn't been visible the last time. When Derek did a double take the guy grinned and nodded.

 

“My job means I need to hide the art work,” He replied with a light laugh, scratching at his cheek, “I use, like, a _ton_ of make-up just in case they don't listen when I tell them to hide. They kinda have a mind of their own. I came back the other day but it was your day off or whatever so I missed you. I just wanted to thank you for the arrangement. I had it delivered to her desk and... well, I'll just show you, yeah? You seem like the kinda guy who knows a video is worth a million words.”

 

Derek's eyebrows twitched at that blatant misquote and the guy rolled his eyes, “I know it's picture worth a thousand. Chill, fellow nerd. Here, check this out.”

 

The guy pulled out his phone, tapped it a couple times, turned it sideways, and... sat on Derek's counter so they could both watch it together. Derek reacted without thinking- likely partly because the guy smelled like a _different_ werewolf pack and was attractive, pushy, and annoying- put his hand on the curve of his ass, and _pushed._ The guy dropped down to his feet, twisted his ankle, and fell hard on the floor.

 

Derek stood there in absolute horror, frozen in place with his heart rabbit fast. He'd just assaulted a customer. Who was now hurt judging by how he was frowning down at his ankle and rotating it carefully. His co-workers would call an ambulance, tell them that Derek was a werewolf, and he'd be arrested. Mountain ash cuffs flashed before his eyes as the guy scrambled up and gave him a terrified look.

 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” He stammered, turning to Derek's co-workers. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion, “Does anyone have a chair?! I think he's going to faint!”

 

Derek's co-workers hadn't been hovering near by this time since they remembered shouty-magic-guy, but they came running when he shouted for them. Derek gave them the same horrified look, waiting for Stiles to explain what had happened and destroy Derek's life completely. Werewolf prejudice was insane, and the guy being in a pack didn't mean he wasn't a horrible, privileged, dick.

 

Except, that wasn't what happened. Adrien grabbed a stool and shoved it behind Derek and Claire gestured to it anxiously.

 

“Why aren't any of you helping him? He's white as a sheet!” The guy hopped over the counter this time and put his hands on Derek, one on his elbow and one on his shoulder, and guided him onto the stool, “Easy, buddy. Deep breaths.”

 

Derek's co-workers had all spat out numerous cries for Stiles to stop and not touch Derek, but he'd ignored them in favor of taking care of him and Derek just blinked at him dumbly.

 

“He's a _werewolf_ ,” Claire hissed, “You can't just _touch him_!”

 

“He's a wha-” Stiles paused, giving her a flat look and then Derek saw the lightbulb come on behind his eyes, “Wolfsbane! That's all that fucks with werewolves like this. Some must have came in by accident! I'll check the stuff around him, you check the back cause I'm not allowed in there!” The two took off at a fast pace and the stranger continued in a stage whisper, “And also I'm trying to get rid of you.”

 

Derek swallowed hard, trying to force out words past the panic. His pack was about to be sued. “I'm sorry about-”

 

“Hey, it's okay,” The guy stated, putting his hands on both shoulders, “I'm in a pack, too. You can smell that. I'm not a threat. I'm not calling the cops because you shoved my annoying ass around. My packmates do the same. Jackson basically owns the whole 'fuck off Stiles' push you just pulled. Okay? You wanna breathe in my scent? That help?”

 

Derek felt the tension leave his shoulders and the blood return to his face, “I get it. Stop pawing at me.”

 

Stiles- apparently a name- pulled his hands back but didn't move physically away. Derek was grateful. He missed his pack most days but wasn't the kind to call for them and going to their shared house was like walking into his worst nightmare. Loud, filled with hormones, and reeking of foot funk. Oh, hell, who was he kidding? He was basically touch starved and his pack didn't make enough room for him to sate his needs with his damn spiteful personality. He needed to get together with his sisters for a fur pile before he started snuggling random weirdos at work.

 

“You wanna see that video now?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Derek's lips twitched and Stiles came around his side and cocked his hip as he produced his phone once more and hit play on the video. It was an office decorated in soft cream colors and dark oak, soft chairs and potted plants were everywhere. The camera zoomed in on a man delivering the flowers- Aiden- and Derek could hear Stiles snicker on the video and beside him. A devastatingly beautiful woman in a light pink pants suit stepped forward to receive them, eyes on the delivery boy as she talked to him, signed, and then accepted the flowers. Then her eyes dropped to them and widened. She turned it a few times and cold rage started turning her face pink and then an unattractive puce. Her eyes shot over to where Stiles was giggling like mad with his phone recording her and she threw the flowers to the ground before screaming loud enough to cut the audio on the phone. It shook and the video ended.

 

“She was so pissed, but not as pissed as her mom when she saw she hadn't 'gracefully and politely responded to the situation'.” Stiles chortled.

 

Aiden and Claire had returned, looking worried, but when they saw Derek was no longer shaking and pale they looked calmed.

 

“Did you find it?”

 

“Yup,” Stiles tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket and walked back around the desk, “I burnt it to a crisp. Derek's okay now. Bye, buddy!”

 

Derek waved at him as he left and his co-workers gaped at him.

 

“Dude... did you just make a... _friend?”_ Aiden asked.

 

“Don't call me dude,” Derek replied, standing up and pushing the stool out of the way so he could continue working. There was a pleasant curl in his belly that made him force down a smile lest his co-workers think he wasn't a cranky bastard.

 


	3. Chapter 3

That should have been the last Derek saw of Stiles. He was a content introvert and Stiles was a loud mouthed sarcasm machine. They literally had no business being around each other except... Derek _was_ a werewolf, and pack meetings happened and he was expected to attend them at least some of the time. Derek showed up at one to find to his shock that Stiles was in the center of the great room laughing loudly at something he'd said while everyone around him looked profoundly uncomfortable.

 

His alpha made a B-line for him. Laura was his elder sister by four minutes and she never let him live it down. She was also a fantastic alpha who he was honored to follow; she never turned away a wolf in need and her philanthropy for homeless werewolves in cities, and activism for werewolf rights in rural areas where they were seen as problems was unparalleled. The second Derek saw Stiles was there he immediately felt a sense of triumph. Stiles was a Werewolf Rights Lawyer. He'd get them through the grants process to fund more movements and keep Laura's businesses safe! He was smart, funny, and would fit right in with his pa-

 

“Derek, you have to get rid of this guy!” Laura hissed at him.

 

“I have to what now?” Derek blinked at her, face falling slack.

 

“He's so fucking annoying I want to rip his throat out with my teeth!” She whispered, gripping his arm tight enough to hurt.

 

“Ow,” Derek deadpanned.

 

“Sorry. Geez! I called his firm for a consult and he answered. He said he was leaving and starting his own practice, so we could have, like, a _huge_ chunk of his time! More than another lawyer in his field would be able to spend on our cases! He said he was part of a super small pack looking to merge, and coincidentally so are we, so I invited him to our pack meeting to introduce him and he has. Not. Stopped. Talking. Since. Go over there and give him your attack eyebrows and make him feel unwelcome.”

 

“You... what?” Derek scowled at her in confusion and annoyance.

 

“Perfect! Go!”

 

Laura shoved him bodily towards Stiles, using more of her strength than necessary and leaving him pinwheeling into the young man. Derek's face collided with Stiles' shoulder painfully, and the guys arms had come around him to halt their fall, which really just left them in a controlled fall onto the nearby couch. Almost. They ended up halfway on it and halfway on the floor, then slid down and landed in a heap there with Derek on hands and knees over the sprawling form of the human lawyer. Derek froze as the most intoxicating scent filled his nose. Beneath the flurry of office, friends, pack, work, medicine, anxiety, and laundry detergent was Stiles' own scent and it was a beautiful bouquet. He blamed his freak out and the stink of flowers on not noticing it sooner. Stiles smelled _amazing_. He smelled like mate. No. _No way._ Derek was a pansexual introvert, his mate could _not_ be an asexual extrovert. He already had to work past his resting bitch face just to occasionally get laid, if he were tied forever to an ace he'd be stuck with his hand for life!

 

“Whoa!” The guy laughed, “I know I'm recently single, but you don't have to throw your hottest guy at me!”

 

Derek jerked back and stared down at Stiles, feeling himself grow red. He never blushed. He _never blushed._ He was an introvert, not a shy, nervous guy! He didn't flush when flirted with he rolled his eyes! And then if he were _supremely_ lucky and the other person managed to do most of the talking he'd get his dick wet. Except _not with this guy_ who had already lost a supremely hot partner due to not being attracted to them!

 

“Oh, hey,” Stiles eyebrows waggled, “It's you, flower boy. I guess you just can't _leaf_ me alone!”

 

“Did you just...” Derek hid a laugh with a scowl as he picked himself up. He didn't hold out his hand to help Stiles back up, but the guy sure grabbed it and dragged himself to up to his stupid giraffe legs by Derek's arm.

 

“Sorry, I'm kinda a goof,” Stiles grinned, “Is this your pack?”

 

Derek raised an eyebrow to show him the disdain he felt about that particular question and Stiles laughed.

 

“Yeah, okay, _obviously_ this is your pack, but what are the odds? So, how've you been?”

 

Derek scowled and Stiles laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, “Oh, sourwolf, you slay me!”

 

Derek gave his hand an offended look and Stiles held up both hands, “Okay! I'm keeping them to myself! Wow, you're really _not_ as affectionate as my pack. My alpha and I grew up together. He's basically my brother. We cuddle all the time.”

 

Silent pause. Stiles started to turn red.

 

“Oh my god, not that kind! PLATONIC cuddling! Honestly, not to sound like a typical dull-tooth, but I kinda thought all werewolves were hands-on.”

 

Derek's facade cracked a bit at one of the terms they used for humans that was usually considered a bit... derogatory. It put him at ease to hear Stiles acknowledge his lack of understanding of werewolf culture despite his investment in it.

 

“We usually are, just not with non-pack members. Nobody wants me smelling like you.”

 

“Okay, that makes sense. Thanks for explaining it. I'll do better in the future. Maybe once our packs merge I'll be able to get my hands on aaaaall O' that. On a similar note,” Stiles rubbed his hands together and turned to Laura, “Let's get down to business. Alpha Laura, I know you've been having some issues with a local group in the area. I'm fairly familiar with the Argents and-”

 

“Leave,” Derek grunted. His wolf growled inside his head, but he ignored him. That way lay pain. Down boy. DOWN.

 

Stiles' face fell and he turned back to him, “What? Did I... if I offended someone-”

 

“Derek!” Laura shrieked, darting forward and throwing her arm around his shoulders, “You're such a kidder! He's so funny! Isn't he funny, Stiles?!”

 

Derek blinked in confusion and glanced at her forced smile and then around the room looking for clues to her sudden change of heart. The entire pack was staring at the three of them in confusion and wonder. It didn't seem to be focused on Laura's sudden antics, though. It seemed to be about Derek and Stiles, who they were glancing back and forth between.

 

“Yeah,” Derek replied, “Funny.”

 

Stiles laughed eagerly, “Oh, you! You had me going! So, like I was saying, the Argents are a huge organization, but that actually helps us.”

 

Stiles was still talking a mile a minute when Derek decided he'd had more than enough pack time. He'd lasted a lot longer than usual. By _hours_ according to his watch. He'd been enjoying the pack as they casually leaned against him to scent mark him, and Stiles' constant chatter meant he was barely spoken to which was a plus, but he missed home and was getting people-tired. Derek slipped out while Stiles was outlining his 'plan of attack' and even Laura didn't notice.

 

An hour later he got a text from his sister asking what time he'd left. He replied down to the minute, because he'd looked, and she sent him a few hundred hearts until he texted for her to stop.

 (Text conversation until end of chapter)

**Laura: You stayed for three hours! I'm so proud of you! Why didn't you tell me you were dating?**

 

**Derek: I'm not dating anyone.**

 

**Laura: Didn't you say you need a person to rent your loft with you?**

 

**Derek: No.**

 

**Laura: Is he moving in with you? Or is it too soon?**

 

**Derek: LAURA NO**

 

**Laura: OMG HE JUST TOLD ME HE WOULD LOVE TO LIVE WITH YOU!**

 

**Derek: LAURA FUCKING STOP I barely know this guy and we're not dating!**

 

**Laura: Derek, don't get cold feet. How often do you meet someone that YOU can tolerate? Who makes you almost-smile? And relieves the social pressure you always feel when in the presence of mere mortals such as your alpha and pack?**

 

That gave Derek pause, and it was long enough that Laura decided that she'd won.

 

**Laura: I gave him your number. DO NOT FUCK THIS UP.**

 

**Derek: I hate you so much.**

 

**Unknown Number: Hey, Derek! It's Stiles! You are knot going to believe what just happened. I just got the number of THE HOTTEST GUY.**

 

Derek turned off his phone.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was lunch break at work and Derek was dragging after having lost sleep the night before over his sister and Stiles plotting to have Stiles move in with him. He'd paced his home and tried to work out the logistics. His loft above his kitchen was open concept with iron pipe rails so people didn't topple down to the floor below. The spiral staircase was in the corner, which meant if someone were to split the loft into two bedrooms one person's space would have to be walked _right through_ to get to the other. Putting one sleeping area on the ground floor would mean that the person above had a full view if they just walked to the short wall. If only the area beneath weren't taken up by the bathroom and the kitchen it would at least be possible to put sleeping areas there, but that wasn't his layout. The back half of the kitchen took up the space beneath the loft with the bar seating open to the ceiling above. Of course, Stiles was asexual so maybe he wouldn't care? Derek could take the corner and put up a big bookshelf to give the two privacy and maybe a folding divider and-

 

“Hey, Derek! There you are!”

 

Derek's jaw clenched in annoyance. Derek had gone to the Starbucks to get a coffee on his lunch break but had been struggling to order. He hated talking to strangers. He hated _everything_ to do with people. And the disgusted, tired look on the barista's face was making him want to leave. Now he had his new stalker showing up out of the blue. He gave him the furious look that required and Stiles winced.

 

“Shit, too much, huh? I'm sorry. Your sister suggested we have lunch today and I just assumed she cleared it with you. I'll- I'll just go.”

 

Derek grabbed his arm before he could leave. His head was pounding and Laura was right about one thing. He broke Derek's social barrier. For whatever reason he could talk to Stiles and Stiles could talk to people. For him.

 

“Mocha machiato. Hot. Large.”

 

“You mean a-”

 

“I know they call it something different, just _order it for me_.”

 

Stiles' eyebrows went up in surprise, taking in Derek's obvious discomfort and his distance from the counter. He nodded and Derek released his arm. Stiles headed up front and made both their orders and Derek's relief was so palpable that his ears started ringing. He let out a slow breath and began choosing a table, looking for one that wasn't near someone who would talk loudly or brush against him. Stiles, however, had already started moving for the tables and Derek dreaded cutting him off for this important selection. Except he jumped right in and took a table that was clearing out and would be perfect. Stiles started wiping it down and gestured for Derek to sit down. Derek headed over and took the chair with his back to the wall while Stiles sat across from him.

 

“You know, you could probably break that barista in half, right?”

 

“Without trying,” Derek stated, “I'm not _afraid_ of him. It's not like that.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“If I order it wrong he'll correct me, and I always say the wrong thing.”

 

“Okay?” Stiles shrugged, “I'm wrong basically every day.”

 

“It's not about being wrong,” Derek sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, “It's all the eyes on me when I am.”

 

“Hm,” Stiles nodded, “That makes sense.”

 

“Sourwolf!” The barista called.

 

Derek's hand dropped and he gave Stiles an aggravated glare.

 

“Surprise?” Stiles asked weakly.

 

“You're a fucking dick.”

 

“Yeah, but- uh-” Stiles flailed as Derek went to get his drink and returned to the table, “Uh... wanna hear a joke about my dick?!”

 

Derek gave him a look of horror, the table behind him mirroring it, “No!”

 

“Never mind, it's too long anyway,” Stiles shrugged, grinning broadly at his own brand of annoying humor.

 

Derek fought down the smirk. Of course Stiles was fixing things with humor.

 

“Want to hear one about mine?” Derek snarked back.

 

“What? Yeah!” Stiles' eyes went wide.

 

Derek leaned forward and gave him his sassiest glance, “Never mind, you'll never get it anyway.”

 

Stiles cracked up, cackling and slapping his hand down on the table at Derek's response. Derek took the opportunity of his loudly distracting theatrics to stand up, grab his drink, and glide out of the room with the exit glory of a dramatic Hale and Stiles respected it enough not to follow.

 

Sadly that didn't last. The next day Stiles showed up at his work with food and a carrier full of coffee right in time for his lunch break. Derek was getting frustrated at that point and he headed over, grabbed him by the arm, and steered him towards the exit. Stiles started sputtering protests immediately.

 

“I don't know what my sister told you, but I'm a cold, angry bastard and I don't do this shit.”

 

“But!”

 

“Stop coming around.”

 

“No, wait!”

 

Derek shoved him out the door, spilling the coffee all over him and causing him to drop the food. He pulled at the door to shut it, but it was spring loaded and he didn't want to break it so he couldn't exactly slam it. Stiles looked amused and Derek huffed and turned away instead. A shout of alarm filled the air and Stiles shrieked in fear.

 

“DEREK! HELP!”

 

Derek was out the door before he could think about it, following Stiles' scent around the corner where it vanished to-. Derek stopped dead and gave Stiles the disgusted and exhausted look he deserved. He was on the ground by an angel statue in front of an Italian restaurant. The cherub's bow had been broken off by vandals for months. Stiles had put his shirt in the cherub's hand to make it look like it was going to punch him. He chuckled, but when Derek turned to walk away again he scrambled up despite tearing his shirt and chased him down.

 

“Wait, wait, come on! Just hear me out!”

 

Derek grabbed Stiles and shoved him against the nearby brick wall, knocking the air out of him.

 

“No, you hear _me_ out! I don't like being teased! I'm not your fucking joke!”

 

“Who's joking? I just want a place to live!” Stiles choked out, “Your sister said you needed a flat share! She said if it doesn't work out than we can both move to a different place in a few months instead of renewing the lease. I thought it sounded perfect!”

 

“It won't _work_. It's an open concept place.”

 

“I went to college. I know what a lack of privacy is and how to make sure you get some! And who else gets you, huh? I know your sister doesn't or she'd set aside a pack gathering that was a movie night or a night at a fancy-ass restaurant where everyone had to be chill.”

 

Derek let him go and backed up and Stiles grinned, reaching out to straighten Derek's shirt. He jerked his head forward threateningly and Stiles flinched. Good. They were on even footing.

 

“Look,” Stiles breathed, “Just let me come by and see it and if it's really impossible I'll just walk away. Okay?”

 

“Why me?” Derek asked.

 

“Because life is short and you are hot?” Stiles suggested, grinning at his own Doctor Who reference.

 

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and Stiles sighed.

 

“Because I thought we connected and I'd like to be friends,” Stiles told him, “You remind me of a packmate of mine.”

 

Derek frowned, irrational jealousy blooming, “How?”

 

“He had some social issues, too,” Stiles replied easily, “His dad used to beat the shit out of him. He was all fucked up about it. My alpha ended up chasing the guy off when he recognized Isaac as his mate. Now I'm not saying I'm gonna fight someone for you- not physically, anyway- but your sister says you can tolerate me and that that's pretty huge.”

 

Derek sighed. It _was_ huge. Until his sister had put pressure on them he'd have even said he _wanted_ to spend time with Stiles. He might have made an effort at the next pack meeting and given the guy his number. (No he wouldn't. He'd have asked his sister to give his number to Stiles, but it would have been on HIS TERMS.) His sister was to blame for the tension that Stiles was struggling so hard to diffuse, not Stiles.

 

“Okay,” Derek agreed, “You can come by after 5.”

 

Stiles beamed at him and punched the air twice in excitement, “You won't regret this! I swear I can be quiet!”

 

“Not really doing a good job convincing me,” Derek huffed, then started to turn back to work and paused, feeling a real blush up his cheeks, “Uh... sorry about lunch.”

 

Stiles snorted and shrugged, “Your loss. The place is next door to my work. I can get more. You're out the best damn club sandwich in New York.”

 

Stiles waved and trotted off with a skip in his step while Derek fought back a smile. The guy was annoying, but for whatever reason he didn't exhaust Derek. He'd met a few people like that in his life. His sister Cora was an example, but sadly most of his family hadn't fallen into that category.

 

A dark mood fell over Derek at the memory of his family. Most of them were gone and it was largely his fault. He hadn't trusted his instincts back then, and while he'd been just as much of an introvert as a kid it didn't mean that he didn't love or miss them. Quite the opposite. Losing his mother meant losing the only other person who had understood and respected his need for solitude besides Cora. She had been an alpha, but had also been an introvert like Derek. She didn't have the level of anxiety he did, but he'd seen her 'batteries' slowly run out as she dealt with packmates and officials and even her beloved family. Laura had whined years after her death that she'd sometimes felt her mother didn't love them. Derek had been furious. She _had_ loved them, she'd just reach a point where she needed to lay down in a quiet room eventually. That wasn't a lack of love, it was a need for self care. If Derek had found another person who understood that- not that Stiles necessarily did- than he would hold onto him tightly. And if Stiles did? Well... maybe he didn't need sex to be happy with him.

 

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	5. Chapter 5

Derek checked his text messages again. It was pushing 6 pm and Stiles hadn't shown up yet, despite confirming his address around 4 in the evening. Derek was starting to think he'd been the butt of a joke when he heard the young man's voice as he came down the hall.

 

“No, you listen to _me,_ Lydia. I'm done with this conversation. Our relationship meant _nothing_ to you and I'm moving out. You can deal with the expense of your lifestyle without me or find another patsy to suck funds from. It's not my fault your parents burned through their money so fast. Look, I'm at another appointment and I have to go. Don't care. Cruel doesn't cover it. I'm cold as ice, baby, and you're the one who froze me over. … … Oh, shut the fuck up.”

 

Stiles ended his call and paused outside of Derek's heavy metal loft door. Derek could hear him taking a slow, deep breath, but he opened it before Stiles could knock and caught him doing some sort of calming exercise. His arms were over his head and his fists clenched, eyes closed, as he counted backwards from five. His eyes flew open when Derek opened the door and he blushed at being caught. Derek felt a bit guilty. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed.

 

“Bathroom's through there,” Derek pointed at the door to indicate where he could hide out if he needed to finish.

 

“Oh, cool,” Stiles grinned, seeming fine despite his obvious earlier distress. His scent had leveled already so Derek didn't push. He just stepped aside and let him in.

 

Stiles' jovial grin became a look of wonder immediately as he gazed around at the huge open concept industrial design. The upstairs was too their left, the loft accessible at the far end of the giant room via a metal spiral staircase, and the right side of the long rectangular room was open to the big metal beamed rafters above. Beneath the loft was the bathroom immediately inside the door, a storage closet, and the kitchen which had an island with seating. The couch was in the middle of the great room where it got the most sunlight from the south facing gigantic windows. Straight ahead was a huge arched window with a dining table/desk in front of it and four stuffed dining chairs on wheels. He had minimal décor, but what existed was black and red with splashes of white in sharp shapes. The rug beneath the sofa was black, the cement floor painted a dark gray but allowed to chip and fade in areas rather than coated to make it shiny. The only other furniture was a huge book shelf which the couch faced that extended up to the ceiling two stories up.

 

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, eyes wide and shining with wonder.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Can I put a swing up there?”

 

Stiles pointed up and Derek's eyebrows rose.

 

“Will you play on it _quietly_?”

 

“Only when you're here.”

 

“That's fair.”

 

For a moment Stiles just stared up in excitement and then Derek cleared his throat.

“You probably want to see the loft. It's the part that makes this all impossible.”

 

“Nothing is impossible,” Stiles stated, following him up the spiral staircase, “Only highly improbable.”

 

Derek's bed, a dresser, a lamp, and a bookshelf were on the far side of the loft. His exercise equipment were on the side that Stiles would have to make his room. Stiles was looking around himself with a critical eye and nodding in consideration.

 

“I see the problem,” He stated.

 

Derek nodded.

 

“How much of the closet space downstairs is occupied?”

 

“Not much. Some coats. Boots. Tool box.”

 

“So we can store some of your weight equipment in there. The bench will have to go down there, too. I think the mats will fit under the table. That cool?”

 

“You think this is okay?” Derek gestured to the room.

 

“Wait, that wasn't your concern? I thought you were all trying to preserve that 'minimal living' aesthetic you had going on.”

 

“No. There's no _privacy.”_

 

“Dude, like I said. I went to college. We'll be fine. Your book shelf can divide the space up and we can hang curtains or some shit. Or just deal with the fact that we're a couple of dudes and not stare too hard if we see each other's dicks.”

 

“Seriously?” Derek scoffed.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't assume. If your genitals are different from mine I promise not to stare, too.”

 

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, “Remember how I'm _painfully_ introverted and it took meeting you multiple times to get further than a few words and even my _pack_ exhausts me?”

 

“Yeah, I have a plan for that.”

 

Stiles put down his backpack and pulled out two cards, one red and the other yellow. He held them out to Derek who accepted them with a frown.

 

“This way if you are out of words, cause let's face it you've got a surprisingly low count per day- stop growling- all you have to do is hold up a card! Yellow means shut up. Red means get out of my sight for a bit.”

 

Derek blinked in surprise, “That might actually work.”

 

“Yup! You know what they say, right? Nothing comes easy. It won't pan out if you don't make it... _werk_!”

 

Stiles started wiggling his ass in a sexy little dance, his abdomen rolling and his hips shifting suggestively. Derek felt desire stir in his abdomen but shook his head to dismiss it.

 

“What about the rest of your stuff?”

 

“It's mostly comic book stuff. If it doesn't fit on your _big-dick-energy_ book shelf I'll put it in storage. Getting away from Lydia is what I need right now. I'm gonna start packing!”

 

Stiles skipped off, nearly fell down the spiral staircase, and sped out the door at top speed. Derek stared down at the red and yellow cards in his hands.

 

“Maybe I can glue them to bricks...”

 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N There's a random masturbatory fantasy in here including Chel for El Dorado in a threesome with Derek and Stiles. It's a blip, but I wanted to give you a heads up.

 

Stiles' packmate Jackson helped him move in, ostensibly because he was so _very_ eager to get Stiles out of his space. Apparently Jackson was the only one with space for Stiles to stay at while he found a new place to live and they hated each other. Jackson stormed Derek's place, practically throwing boxes into his house, told Stiles not to visit again, and slid the door shut hard enough to slam the heavy steal.

 

“Dick,” Stiles glared after him.

  
Derek heard Jackson shout back that Stiles was a pathetic twerp, but Stiles probably didn't hear it without werewolf hearing. Instead he let out a heavy breath, gave himself a shake, and turned to Derek with a smile.

 

“I'll get this mess cleaned up,” Stiles told him.

 

“You need help?” Derek asked, wanting more contact with him already.

 

“Sure, I could use help. Uh... especially on the stairs,” Stiles frowned up at the loft upstairs.

 

“Any of these breakable?” Derek asked.

 

“Just that one,” Stiles pointed to the only box marked fragile.

 

Derek picked up the nearest box, determined to show off for the young man and chucked it flawlessly up onto the second floor loft.

 

“Whoa,” Stiles stated, voice deeper than usual, “Thems some muscles you got there, big guy.”

 

Derek smothered his smirk and picked up the next one, pointing his ass towards Stiles as he did so, “This is how I got everything upstairs as is. That spiral staircase is a loss.”

 

“Uh... yeah... spiral-y,” Stiles stammered, looking away uncomfortably.

 

_Fuck. Fuck. I forgot he's asexual!_

 

Derek quickly shifted back, feeling himself turn red, “Uh, why don't you... put your toothbrush and stuff in the bathroom while I... finish this...”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles nodded, forcing a smile onto his face.

 

Derek waited until he was out of sight to stare up at the ceiling in misery. _How_ did he forget that Stiles wouldn't respond to his usual 'flex em to get em' approach? Fuck! Derek had to just play it cool and make sure that Stiles felt safe in his home. Hell, the guy just broke up with someone. He probably needed a friend more than anything else. Derek would be grateful for what he got.

 

Derek finished tossing his boxes and one bag up, walked the fragile one up to the top floor, and shoved all the boxes onto Stiles' side. He'd picked up a small bed the day before and set it up in there after confirming that Stiles didn't have one, so now that the 'room' was completely set up he closed the privacy curtains. Stiles was taking... a really long time. And the fragile box felt empty. In fact... without prying, he was pretty sure it was.

 

Derek headed downstairs and through the open door to find that Stiles had hung up new shower curtains. They were a yellow and white checkered pattern with happy little green frogs all over them. Derek glared at it irritably.

 

“Ta dah!” Stiles gestured to it and around the bathroom, where frog statues had appeared from seemingly nowhere.

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

“I was gonna ask you, but your face said 'don't talk to me' so I listened. See? We're good at this! And how cute are these frogs!”

 

Stiles held up one that looked drunk, a bottle of booze in it's little... hand? In the other was a sign that said Bud-Wise-Errrr. Derek wanted to smash it.

 

“Um...” Stiles frowned, “Maybe I can just put them somewhere else.”

 

“No,” Derek swallowed his frustration, “It's fine. Leave them there.”

 

“We're  _really_ bad at this,” Stiles replied.

 

“Just... set up your room. I need the bathroom for a few.”

 

Stiles slid sideways out to avoid brushing Derek while giving him that uncomfortable look again and rushed upstairs. Derek let out a slow breath and stared at the mirror in his room, ignoring the dangling legs of yet _another frog._ Who liked frogs this much? He was from a _wolf pack_. Why weren't there wolves?

 

Derek pissed, washed, and left the bathroom to find Stiles in his room upstairs with the curtains thrown open as if privacy wasn't a thing. He had music playing on his phone, headphones in, and was jiggling his ass while he rearranged his space. He was tacking things to the back of Derek's book shelf. Posters. He was putting up super hero posters. He took that moment to strike a super hero pose, and _of course_ it was one of the super fucking sexist women's poses, and Derek felt his wolf whine miserably.

 

_This is going to be harder than I thought._

 

Stiles stretched, revealing his happy trail to the room, and Derek died a little inside even as his mouth began to water.

 

 _Literally_.

 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Stiles asked, “I brought my favorites! Disney, Pixar, or Dreamworks?”

 

Derek blinked as Stiles put a box up on the railing, “Don't-”

 

The box toppled down, scattering DVD's everywhere. Most of them landed on the kitchen counter.

 

“Oops.”

 

Derek sighed and began cleaning them up while Stiles hurried down the steps looking worried about his collection.

 

“Maybe stay away from the rail,” Derek suggested as Stiles stumbled down the last few steps.

 

“I'm kind of a clutz,” Stiles admitted, picking up his movies, “Oh, but perfect way to choose! Let's watch this!”

 

Derek blinked at the movie he held up, “El Dorado?”

 

“It has the _best memes_.”

 

“What's a memes?”

 

Stiles gaped at Derek in horror, “Oh my god, please tell me you have wifi.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Was that a question?” Stiles asked, looking angry.

 

“Yes. We have wifi.”

 

“Aw, you said 'we',” Stiles folded his hands beside his face as if smitten and batted his eyes at Derek, “So much progress from Sourwolf in just one day!”

 

Derek's wolf panted happily, loving the nickname, and Derek _might_ have smiled. A bit.

 

“I love this one,” Stiles told him, “Epic friendship, a horse, silliness, a plan, and so much comedy gold!”

 

Stiles sat down criss-cross to watch the movie, his face lit up like a Christmas tree... which reminded Derek that it was almost his stupid fucking birthday, which fell a week before Christmas. Which meant it was almost Christmas. Derek glared around his place remembering that now that he had a house guest he'd probably have to actually _do Christmas_. As in decorate. As in _not_ be a recluse. It also meant they were about to get busy at work.

 

“I hate Christmas,” Derek muttered.

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Stiles chortled, “Weird segue though.”

 

“Popcorn?” Derek suggested, retreating to the kitchen.

 

“Hells, yeah!”

 

Derek tried to decide if he wanted to tell Stiles about his birthday or not. Laura would, inevitably. She always tried to get him to celebrate it. If he didn't explain to Stiles that he didn't want his birthday exaggerated beyond belief than Stiles would inevitably be dragged into Laura's plan to do just that. He returned with popcorn to find Stiles bouncing on the couch in excitement.

 

“You've seen this right? Have you seen this? You seem more like a DC guy than a cartoons guy.”

 

“I haven't seen it,” Derek shook his head, “I read more than I watch television.”

 

“Ugh, nerd,” Stiles laughed.

 

“We should... discuss something,” Derek sat on the couch and handed Stiles the bowl since he suspected he was going to clean it out himself.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles nodded, “So, sex stuff.”

 

Derek's wolf nearly drowned out Stiles' next words and he had to shake his head and get him to repeat it.

 

“I said,” Stiles laughed, “That we should have a code word for when you bring dates back here.”

 

“I... uh...”

 

Fuck. Derek's wolf did _not_ like that. At all. Stiles was his mate, for fuck's sake. The fact that Stiles was asexual meant that Derek was officially celibate. He hadn't claimed him, so technically he could go out and sleep around, but he just didn't see the appeal. He wanted Stiles, and Stiles was probably grossed out by the idea of sex judging by his earlier reaction.

 

“We don't need a code word,” Derek turned away and hunched down in the sofa, shutting the conversation down with his body language as well as words. He was actually pretty proud of himself for using his words.

 

“Wait... are you ace, too?” Stiles asked, “Is that why we clicked? Did we just become best friends?!”

 

“No,” Derek cut him off, glaring at him out of the corner of his eyes, “I mean yes, we're... friends.”

 

“Wow, don't hurt yourself with all that tenderness, dude,” Stiles scoffed.

 

“I'm not ace,” Derek replied, “I respect you, though.”

 

“Aww,” Stiles gave him a fond smile and pinched his cheek, earning his hand a slap, “Such a sweet lil ally!”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, “Not what I wanted to discuss.”

 

“Okay, so what's on your mind, muscles?”

 

“My- uh- birthday is in a few weeks and-”

 

Stiles' squealing interrupted Derek's words and he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes hard.

 

“That's exactly what I mean,” Derek pointed at him accusingly, “My sister freaks about my birthday every year. I hate it. She's always getting in my business and I need you to _not join her.”_

 

“Do not go to the dark side. Got it,” Stiles gave him a double thumbs up and Derek immediately suspected he already had.

 

“Just hit play on the movie,” Derek sighed.

 

The movie was... surprisingly good. Derek found Miguel annoying initially, but then Chel showed up on the screen and Derek joined Tulio in losing his head to the cartoon temptress. Stiles snickered at him as he gaped at her.

 

“This is a _kid's movie?”_ Derek asked, adjusting himself.

 

“I know, right?” Stiles laughed, “I love kids movies. There's never too much sexual stuff, they usually have deep meaning, and holy shit is there better plot than half the grown up movies. And friendships! Epic friendships! Miguel and Tulio! Tulio and Miguel! MIGHTY AND POWERFUL GODS!!”

 

Derek... didn't think they were just friends, but he didn't say anything and a few scenes later Stiles was pointing out that Chel's head hadn't been _anywhere_ near Tulio's face. Stiles covered his own while talking about it, apparently not wanting to see the scene at all, but he laughed it off so apparently sex wasn't absolutely repulsive to him. Not enough to not watch the movie or require they skip past it. Eventually the movie ended and Derek decided he was looking at Chel porn that night. He figured it had to exist. Rule 34, after all. At the very least it would reduce obsessing with Stiles sleeping right next door.

 

Stiles sighed at the end of the movie, staring at it with what Derek might have interpreted as infatuation had he not known Stiles was ace. He had squealed at scenes that Derek had thought of as uninteresting, but turned his head away at the sexual scenes, but then seemed happy when they all rode off into the sunset together. Derek was confused. Completely.

 

“Oh, well,” Stiles yawned and stretched _(hello happy trail),_ “Bedtime. I have, like, six clients to meet tomorrow and more classes.”

 

“Classes?” Derek frowned, “You're in school? I thought you were a hot-shot lawyer?”

 

“I'm taking a writing class,” Stiles told him, standing up and smiling down at Derek, “I wanna write a book or three hundred someday.”

 

Derek's cheeks pinked. Why the hell did Stiles have to tick all his boxes? College had been his most sensual time because he'd been figuring out his sexuality while hating everything around him and also _college boys_. Fuck, they were so horny all the time. He'd gotten laid weekly back then. Sometimes several times a week. It was more difficult to coax someone into his bed now, mainly because there were social obstacles. In college he'd just had to open his dorm room, look around for someone who smelled of lust, and motion them inside. Now he associated college with sex, college boys with easy lays, and Stiles with college. Fuck everything.

 

Stiles was giving Derek a weird look and Derek needed a distraction. Now.

 

“Uh... you can do your homework wherever,” He tried, gesturing around himself, “My house. Your house. Mi casa es su casa.”

 

“You're adorable,” Stiles snorted, “How can someone who could bench press me be so awkward?”

 

“Don't say stuff like that,” Derek was mortified to feel himself turning even more red.

 

“Like what? About your muscles? Don't tell me you're self conscious!”

 

“No,” Derek deadpanned as he stood up, “I know I'm gorgeous and muscular. I worked at it. Hard.”

 

“I'll bet,” Stiles' eyes roved over Derek's body, “If I weren't fresh out of a break up I'd treat you like my homework.”

 

“What?” Derek asked, completely baffled.

 

“Throw you down on the table and do you _all night long!”_ Stiles cackled at his own joke, slapping his thigh and heading for the staircase, “But seriously, I have a long day tomorrow. Night!”

 

Stiles ascended the stairway while Derek closed his eyes and willed himself not to chase him like a slavering beast. Why did he have to make so many damn sex jokes? Did he even _know_ he was doing that? Or was it something he'd heard and just innocently repeated?

 

Derek took a few deep breaths, went to the bathroom to brush up, passed Stiles on his way down in PJ's to do the same (he looked cute as fuck in a zip-up onesie) and headed upstairs. Derek had thought this through several times and he knew what he had to do in order to get off while Stiles was present next door. Play music or white noise. The problem was, would Stiles freak out? He'd said he'd gone to college and shared a dorm. Surely his room mate hadn't been ace as well. He'd had to jerk off at one point or another. It was a thing. Derek had had a private room- money had it's perks- but he knew from hearing others complain that room mates had codes and such. He just had to figure things out.

 

“Stiles,” Derek stated from his side of the loft after Stiles got back upstairs, “Will music bother you?”

 

“Probably not,” Stiles replied easily, “I pretty much love all music.”

 

“I mean if I play it before going to sleep sometimes?”

 

“Nah, works for me.”

 

Derek breathed out a sigh of relief and fiddled with his radio. He didn't use it often. Mostly he preferred silence, but music helped him get into the groove when cleaning was necessary. He'd moved his old as shit CD/radio combo upstairs when Stiles had moved in so he could use it to jerk off in peace. Now he laid down in his bed after tuning it to a soft rock station so it wasn't too loud or too soft.

 

Derek was beyond hot and bothered between seeing imagery of a buxom beauty on the movie and his room mate/ _actual_ mate who he couldn't even _touch_. He pulled up google on his phone, typed in _Chel El Dorado_ , clicked images, and spent some time just staring at the images on his screen. The threesomes were where it was at. He easily put himself in the position of Tulio, Stiles as Miguel, and Chel as... well, Chel. She was kinda hot as fuck and he had a thing for full lips.

 

Derek's hand slid into his sweat pants just as a commercial break came on, but he wasn't listening to the music so it didn't throw him off. His mind was on Stiles' scent so nearby, the images on his screen, and the feel of his hand rubbing up and down his length. He let his hand go rough and dry for a bit, sucking in air through his teeth at the fire it sent through his veins. Eventually he had to give his palm a lick, tasting his own precome, and then the motions became fast and eager. He could just see himself fucking into a tight ass while Stiles buried himself in a nice wet pussy. His face would fall lax in pleasure, mouth open, throat exposed, breaths sharp and panting. Derek tossing his head at the imagery.

 

However, threesomes weren't what he wanted with Stiles and it quickly lost it's appeal. Instead he pictured Stiles on his back, legs splayed wide in Derek's grip. Stiles' head tossing from side to side, a continual moan falling from those gorgeous lips. Derek would take him slowly at first, each thrust slow until-

 

Derek's eyes clenched shut and his breath stuttered as he spilled over his fist. He rode his climax until it became too much and then reached for tissues to tidy himself up. He let out a sigh of relief at last, made himself comfortable, and turned off the radio. He could hear Stiles snoring on the other side of the book shelf and tried to decide if it annoyed him or not.

 

It was weird that it didn't.

 

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	7. Chapter 7

Laura called Derek at the ass crack of dawn the next morning. She'd apparently finally heard about Stiles moving in and was squealing in excitement at volumes that pierced his ears. He hung up on her twice before she got herself under control.

 

“How is it? How is he? Did you tell him you two are mates, yet?”

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Derek hissed into the phone, “Shut the hell up!”

 

“He's not a werewolf, he won't hear me unless I'm on speaker... I'm not on speaker, am I?”

 

“No, but... Laura, you're barking up the wrong tree here.”

 

“I know my little brother, Derek.”

 

“By seven minutes, Laura. _Seven minutes.”_

 

“Which are almost here, by the way.”

 

“I'm not going to another of your parties,” Derek cut her off before she could protest, “Besides, that's not the problem.”

 

“What isn't?”

 

“It's not that he isn't a werewolf. I'm fine with that it's...”

 

“It's what?”

 

“He's asexual.”

 

Long pause, and then, “Is that the one that has both parts? Because if so that's so totally up your alley.”

 

“No! God! It's the kind who aren't into sex,” Derek fussed, pretty sure she was playing with him. She'd mentioned his sexuality before, right? So she had to know!

 

“Are you sure? I feel like if it's a sexuality there has to be sex.”

 

“There doesn't have to be sex!” Derek accidentally yelled.

 

From downstairs Derek heard Stiles laugh, sharp and short.

 

“Just... stop pushing this, Laura,” Derek whispered, “This is important to me, okay?”

 

“You... are you serious? Derek, I was joking. Is that punk really your mate? I thought crush or bestie at most!”

 

Derek rubbed at his face and wished he could just vanish from the earth for a few seconds. Laura could be obnoxiously stubborn about not believing what she didn't want to believe, “Yes.”

 

“Wow, but he's... not into sex? Ever?”

 

“I'm pretty sure that's what asexual means,” Derek replied sarcastically.

 

“That's fucking awful,” She replied, “He's so cute!”

 

“And funny, and smart, and caring, and he doesn't make me want to pull out my hair like _some people_.”

 

“Shit, you've got it bad. I've literally _never_ heard you talk about someone like this.”

 

“That's because I've never felt like this about anyone, and I barely know the guy. This is only going to get worse. I need you to not make this harder for me, Laura. No more games. No more pushing us together and then fucking with me, okay?”

 

“What are you going to do?” Laura asked, genuinely sounding upset.

 

“Be friends. Best friends. Make sure I can be near him forever.”

 

“I'm going to fucking _cry_.”

 

“It's not a tragedy, Laura,” Derek sighed, “Sex isn't the end all, be all. I respect his sexuality. It's fine.”

 

“It's so totally _not_.”

 

“I'm going now. Goodbye, Laura. No birthday party.”

 

“No way!”

 

Derek hung up again and let out a spectacular sigh before pushing himself up and heading downstairs to... whatever the fuck was going on in the kitchen. Stiles was cooking, and things were hovering around him. A spice bottle was floating off to the left of his head. A spatula was bobbing in the air over the sink. A jug of milk kept insistently bumping into the fridge.

 

“What the hell?” Derek asked.

 

“Oh, um... surprise?” Stiles glanced at him, “I thought the tattoos gave the magical thing away.”

 

“They did. The milk wants to go back in the fridge,” Derek pointed at it, “I'm starting to feel bad for it.”

 

Stiles glanced at it, “Oh! I thought I did that already.”

 

The fridge door swung open and the milk crashed into something inside and knocked a jug of orange juice over.

 

“Oops! This is why I avoid moving things with it. Hovering is best. Hang on-”

 

Derek saved the OJ before Stiles could attempt to do anything else with magic. He righted the milk and shut the fridge door. Stiles turned a bit red and faced the stove again.

 

“Omelet?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“South western?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Extra cheese?”

 

“No.”

 

“Weirdo.”

 

Derek huffed but didn't argue. Stiles served him his omelet and Derek tucked in once Stiles had joined him. His inner wolf liked that they were eating together and Stiles' fond smile showed he enjoyed it as well. He smelled happy and content and Derek wanted to hold his hand, but he knew that would be moving things too fast. Stiles had no idea that Derek was secretly infatuated with him.

 

Once he finished up Stiles went to the bathroom to shower, passed Derek in just a towel. Derek's resting bitch face served him well as he didn't have a way to stop himself from staring as Stiles walked by in all his twunk glory. He had a little patch of hair on his chest and moles down one side of his body that Derek wanted to fucking _bite_ and would never get the chance.

 

 _Deep breath, Derek. He had a relationship in the past. He obviously likes some aspects of them. He might let you hold him. Maybe he'll even be open to you jerking off next to him. Or on him. Fuck, Stiles covered in_ -

 

Derek jerked off again after Stiles left and then headed to work in a more sour mood than usual.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Derek stomped into his home, threw his coat in the general direction of the coat rack, and then face planted into the couch. Bad plan. He'd landed in the spot Stiles had sat in for the last week and his scent was coating the area. Now Derek just wanted to rage hump the couch. He growled angrily and pushed himself up, sniffing the air to determine if Stiles were home. He wasn't so Derek indulged despite how absolutely embarrassing it was to be humping the couch like a needy teenager.

 

He did feel marginally better afterwards... and after a change of clothes. Stiles returned just as Derek was stepping out of the bathroom, his turn to do the towel-only walk of shame up to the loft area.

 

“Damn, Derek!” Stiles cheered, “Your naked bod reminds me of my big toe!”

 

Derek turned to glare at him in absolute outrage at that comparison, but Stiles wasn't looking at his face. He was staring down at the floor while blushing brilliantly and stuttering through the joke.

 

“Sooner or later I'm going to bang you on the kitchen table! Ha!”

 

“Why do you do that?” Derek gestured at him.

 

“Do what?” Stiles asked, skipping over to the couch and laying his laptop bag down on the coffee table.

 

“Make sex jokes.”

 

“Sorry,” Stiles winced, “It's sort of a learned thing. I never understood all the sexual tension in school so I started covering it up with sex jokes. It made everyone think I was normal... well... less of a freak.”

 

Derek deflated, “You're not a freak.”

 

“I'm an asexual spark with two left feet. Trust me, I know I'm a freak and it's _fine_. I'm overcompensating because we just met. I'll tone it down.”

 

“Right,” Derek nodded, because he both wanted and didn't want that. Stiles' fake flirting just felt like teasing and it _hurt_ but it was also something he wanted to hear.

 

“Didn't mean to, like, objectify you or something,” Stiles added on, giving him a shy glance, “You're handsome, but I know you're not just some cutey bootey.”

 

Derek sighed as he headed for the stairs, “It's fine. I just had a bad day at work.”

 

“Aww, don't be sad!” Stiles called after him, “Because sad backwards is das, and das not good!”

 

“Oh my god, why do I love you?!” Derek raged, and then froze on the landing above in absolute horror.

 

“Awww!” Stiles cooed, “I love you, too, roomie!”

 

Derek groaned and continued to his area, dodging behind his curtain to throw himself down face first on his bed. It still smelled like come from him jerking off to Stiles' scent every night for a week. Everything in the apartment made him want to rut against Stiles and it _wasn't fair._ Unfortunately even being painfully attracted to his flatmate didn't override Derek's burn out from work. He self-isolated for the rest of the night, and now that he had a room mate that meant staying in his loft. By the time Stiles went upstairs to go to bed Derek's stomach was growling angrily and he had to pee so hard he was actually holding his dick.

 

Derek hurried down the steps and into the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief as he pissed a river. When he exited he found Stiles putting a plate on the kitchen island. Derek froze. He'd been so focused on peeing he hadn't heard Stiles come downstairs. Now Derek was stuck and he just... _couldn't_ deal with even Stiles.

 

“Hey, so I get that you're, like... overstimulated or whatever,” Stiles told him, “Sorry for coming back down, but I was worried. I made dinner. Here it is. Just nuke it. Um... you shouldn't be in retail. Shit, that was a horrible way of saying it. What I mean is, I don't think you should be in retail. It's not good for you. I'm hella overwhelmed at my job trying to do my work and the work of a full staff. I seriously need help. You can come work for me and do filing and shit. I was worried when I first left Lydia's mom's office, but I took _too many_ clients with me. I can pay you. I mean... unless you, like, _really_ like flowers. You're good at it, obviously, but... it's not good for you. Maybe you can grow flowers by that big ass window or something instead?”

 

Derek huffed. Stiles wasn't even looking at him. He was talking to the plate of spaghetti. It soothed something in Derek that Stiles was giving him what he needed without even asking. He cared. Inexplicably and without any reservations. Stiles was so much like a wolf that it made sense that he was in a pack, and now he was in two because Derek realized he counted him his pack mate as well as his mate. Laura had wanted a merger and she'd gotten it.

 

Derek stepped forward, put an arm around Stiles and pulled him in to rub his chin along the top of Stiles' head. Stiles slipped an arm around Derek's waist and let him scent for as long as he wanted. Now when Stiles saw his own pack again they would know that Stiles had been accepted into the proposed merger. McCall and Hale were officially one pack. Laura and Scott could work out the details and decide on what their websites would be called. Or whoever handled that in each pack. All that mattered to Derek was that _Stiles_ accepted it with zero fuss.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

Derek shrugged one shoulder, took the plate of food, and headed back up to his room. Stiles called to him before he could and hurried ahead of him.

 

“Living room is yours. I'll make sure to surrender it from time to time,” Stiles vanished upstairs and Derek smiled after him fondly. Laura was right. He was a rare breed.

 

Derek woke up the next morning determined to quit. His coworkers were shifterphobic and his boss paid him less than the humans despite him working there longer. Stiles was insane, but he was also organized and frighteningly intelligent. Derek wasn't afraid to leave his job and work for Stiles, but he was afraid of his longing for the man. He would have to be very careful if he were to work for him, but he had to admit that it was taking a toll on him to both have to work with people and come home to one. His sister's words seemed to mock him, asking how he would ever live with a partner if he couldn't tolerate most people. It hurt. This was his _mate_ , and even if they weren't to have a conventional relationship it meant something to him to be able to spend time with him.

 

Derek headed downstairs to find Stiles about to head out the door for work. He gave Derek a wave, muttered something unintelligible around a mouthful of bagel, and burst out the door with his usual ridiculous speed and gait. Derek frowned after him, realizing he wasn't about to talk to him that morning, and by evening he was likely to be drained again. Derek hated texting, but now was the time to do it.

 

/text dialogue preceded by name/

 

**Derek: I want to be a police officer**

 

**Stiles: No way! It was my dream to be Sheriff for years. Then FBI. Then back to Sheriff. Then Lydia roped me into being a lawyer because that's what she was doing and I just totally went with it and, seriously, zero regrets. I feel like I do so much sleuthing with this, and that was my favorite part. I suppose I could have been a journalist, too. I could totally see you being a police officer.**

 

**Derek: Really?**

 

**Stiles: Yeah, the uniform would look amazing on you.**

 

**Derek: Fuck you. >.<**

 

**Stiles: PLEASE do.**

 

Derek grit his teeth and then decided he had to address this here and now, before his time ran out on his current lease and his rent went up. Before he did something phenomenally stupid. Like tell Stiles that he was his mate. Or hump his leg like a horny dog. Or tell Stiles that he was his mate.

 

**Derek: I know human's can't tell, but you're my wolf's mate.**

 

**Stiles: Sparks can tell. Why do you think I moved in with you after knowing you for like five minutes? I just broke up with someone and I'm still hurting, but I'm not going anywhere sourwolf. If you wanna be a cop, you can be a cop. We'll figure out how to get you there despite your serious case of people-itis. My dad's a Sheriff, which is why I wanted to be one for ages. Want me to invite him over to pick his brain?**

 

Derek spent his entire breakfast staring at his phone in frustration. He had no idea what to think of that reply. Stiles knew? He _knew_ that Derek was into him? So he'd just... been flirting pointlessly? Leading him on? Then there was his dad. Part of Derek wanted to see him _immediately_ , because this was his mate's father. It took a while before he replied again and when he did he'd thought his words through this time.

 

**Derek: I'd like to meet him. In the mean time I think I should work for you. I need to get out of this hell. Probably best that sex is off the table.**

 

Stiles didn't reply for a solid three hours, and by then Derek was wishing he'd just followed him out the door and gone to work for him instead of staying in the shitty job he had. He was eyeball deep in poinsettias and he _hated_ poinsettias. Then he read Stiles' response and started to wish he could just go home and jerk off.

 

**Stiles: Pity. It would have been _glorious_. **

 

**/end text dialogue/**

 

Derek couldn't take it any more. He had dozens of hours of PTO and never took a day off. He was fighting off a panic attack and Stiles was making it worse by _teasing_ him! He needed to _leave. Now._ Derek put his current project aside and found his boss equally buried in red leaves.

 

“I have to leave,” Derek told him, not wanting to explain further.

 

“Leave? It's four weeks from Christmas. You can't _leave,”_ Chad scoffed.

 

“I have PTO.”

 

“You also have written requests off, which you haven't used.”

 

“I never leave sick. I'm asking to today. It's important.”

 

“You're a werewolf, you don't _get_ sick. That's why I hired you. Get back to work.”

 

Derek fumed angrily for a moment, and then let out a slow breath, “My mate is a human rights lawyer. I don't think he'd mind switching it up to werewolf rights.”

 

“Are you _threatening me_?” He asked angrily.

 

“No,” Derek told him firmly, “I'm telling you that you're being shifterphobic and I'm tired of it. I need a day off. Mental health day. My co-workers get them all the time, along with more pay, twice as many breaks, and a better schedule and work load. I'm taking the rest of today off.”

 

“You leave today it's job abandonment,” His boss sneered at him gleefully.

 

Derek scowled and then turned and walked away, hands clenched to keep his claws from being seen even if it meant digging them into his palm. He went out to his car, got inside, and drove home while trying not to crack his teeth in rage. All he wanted was to get the day over with, but he couldn't _tolerate_ his damn job any longer. When he got home he noticed that Stiles had left a tie hanging on the door handle. He was such a _slob_ , and if he started spreading his shit all over the loft Derek was going to lose it at him. He didn't want to lose it at his mate when they weren't even on clear terms. They'd never survive a fight! Derek threw himself down on his couch, and called his sister Cora. They hadn't talked since the last gathering after all.

 

“ _Derek, what's wrong?”_ Cora started the conversation with.

 

A fair assumption. He never called unless something was wrong.

 

“I just quit my job and my mate doesn't find me attractive.”

 

“ _You... **you found your mate?** And you lost them already?!”_

 

“I didn't lose- Laura didn't tell you he was my mate?”

 

“ _WHO?!”_

 

“Stiles.”

 

“ _Oh, Derek, no! He's asexual! He's super proud of it! And you're kind of a slut!”_

 

“Yeah,” Derek sighed miserably. He felt ridiculous moping over someone, but this wasn't like his sexual flings. This was important. He needed Stiles to stay and he didn't know what to do. His body wasn't something Stiles desired, so what did Derek have to offer?

 

“ _Derek!”_ Cora sounded exasperated, _“What am I going to do with you?”_

 

Derek didn't answer. He had really been hoping she'd shower him with advice. She'd been married to her mate for three years now and was so damn happy it was disgusting. Derek wanted what she had, and now it seemed he was going to destroy it before a month was even up!

 

“ _Well, now what?”_ Cora asked, “ _Mates don't have to be sexual. You can be platonic. It's a thing.”_

 

“That's what I was going for, but he keeps _flirting_.”

 

“ _Why would he flirt if he's asexual?_ ” She asked.

 

“I don't know.”

 

“ _So... ask him?”_

 

Derek sighed and hung up without saying goodbye, sitting up to go find something to eat to soothe his manpain. To his surprise he heard a grunt and then a thump from upstairs. Derek sniffed the air and realized that the scent of Stiles was fresh. _Stiles was home_. He'd been so distracted he hadn't noticed, or heard the pounding heartbeat upstairs. Music was playing softly so he might be dancing with headphones on but... What the hell?! Had he heard Derek whining to his sister about him?

 

Derek scowled and stood up, trying to debate if he should run in shame or go upstairs and confront Stiles for spying on him. He was in the mood to yell at someone. He should have stayed at work so he could snarl at his idiotic co-workers.

 

“Derek! AH!” Stiles cried out, voice sounding choked and pained.

 

Or the tie on the door was a Sherlock-esque signal that Stiles had been abducted in the hall and was being held hostage by a burglar at gun point. Derek didn't use the stairs. He leaped straight up into the air, over the railing, and burst through the curtains dividing up their space with claws out, teeth on display, and a roar ready to distract Stiles' assailant from harming him.

 

What he found made him choke on his own tongue. Stiles was ass up on the bed, pants around his ankles and white dress shirt practically over his head. His tattoos really _did_ go everywhere and the rainbow watercolor fennic fox tattoo was winking at Derek from Stiles' ass right beside a spelled dildo that was vibrating while buried in his hole. Derek stared in shock at the realization that the reason the toy wasn't moving was because it was _knotted_ _in his ass!_ Derek's own knot swelled painfully fast causing the air to leave his lungs on a wheeze. Stiles' arm was moving as he tossed off, but it was out of Derek's sight and the werewolf's brain was reminding him over and again that he did _not have permission to be there_.

 

Derek started to back away, but managed to trip over one of Stiles' shoes, fall backwards, and take the curtains down with him. Stiles' head flew up, eyes wide with horror, and he grappled for the vibrator, then his blankets, then the vibrator, and back to the blankets, clearly unable to decide what to do first. He settled on pulling his ear buds out of his ears and shrieking at Derek in horror without either covering up shutting off the toy in his bottom.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Stiles screamed.

 

“FALLING!” Derek shouted back, “Over your fucking shoes!”

 

“You shouldn't even be NEAR my fucking shoes! This is my side! DID YOU NOT SEE THE TIE?!”

 

“What does the tie have to do- CAN YOU PLEASE TURN OFF THE VIBRATOR?!”

 

“NO! I'M CLOSE AND YOU'RE INTERRUPTING ME, YOU COITUS INTERRUPTOR!”

 

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN DANGER!”

 

“THAT'S NOT EVEN REALISTIC! GET YOUR ROM-COM ASS OUT OF HERE!”

 

Derek fled, but only out into the hallway because his instincts were screaming at him not to leave while his mate was _knotted,_ even if it wasn't technically his knot. Knotted and moaning his name. Fuck. Derek's knot was actually swollen as hell and it _hurt._ Derek could _still hear him_ through the door and he was achingly hard. Stiles was moaning and whining in pleasure, and all Derek could think about was the knot rubbing Stiles' prostate, the vibrator held in place by his twitching hole.

 

Derek heard Stiles' cries amp up and then slow to silence. If he were going for realistic he'd lie still for twenty minutes until the knot deflated, but he could also manually deflate it to-

 

Footsteps. Derek's dawning dread. He wanted to _run_ , but damn it he wasn't going to run from his mate. He wanted him too much. Needed him, even.

 

The door slid open and Derek stared hard at Stiles' post-orgasm face. For posterity. He was flushed, lips bitten, and he smelled of sweat, lube, and come... and the bitter tang outrage. He'd only thrown on a robe, and was probably commando. He was also furious.

 

“Do you not know what a tie on the door means?” Stiles shouted angrily.

 

Derek shook his head without speaking. If he spoke he'd invariably whine; his wolf was far too close to the surface and his knot was still popped in his regrettably tight jeans.

 

“How do you not know what that means? You went to college!”

 

Derek shrugged one shoulder, still trying to fight down a miserable whine.

 

“Well?!” Stiles shouted, gesturing at him violently, “Say something!”

 

Derek grimaced and a whine crawled up his throat, pathetic and pained. Stiles looked baffled and offended for a moment and then narrowed his eyes. To Derek's horror he reached out and cupped Derek's groin. Derek whined louder and Stiles sighed and withdrew his hand.

 

“Are you hurt? Besides the obvious?”

 

Derek shook his head and then changed his mind and nodded it, because tight jeans and knots do _not_ mix in a satisfying way, and Stiles grabbed his hand and pulled him into their shared apartment. He tugged Derek to the couch and flopped down, legs askew, and gestured for Derek to come into his arms. Sadly, he _was_ wearing boxers.

 

“No grinding. Just scenting. Undo your pants so you can fucking _function_ and wait for that knot to subside and then we'll talk.”

 

Derek undid his jeans, shifting them slightly down his thighs so his poor abused member had room. Then he climbed into Stiles' arms quickly and pressed against him, burying his face in Stiles' neck the way he'd been craving since he'd first realized the man was meant to be his. He breathed in deeply and focused on keeping his hips still while waiting for his dick to get the message that nothing more was going to happen. Stiles' hands moved over his back in soothing circles, calming him as he tried to focus.

 

“So, I got three cancellations today due to the weather and decided to come home and celebrate you being a Big Beta and telling me you're my mate. Now, I know your schedule because I'm painfully obsessive and nosy, so I know you weren't supposed to be home today. So what's with that, huh?”

 

Derek whimpered again and Stiles sighed.

 

“I'm going to have to leave in twenty minutes to make my last meeting of the day and I'm not interested in going there sticky so I need to shower. I can manage a shower in 2 minutes, so you've got 18 to remember how to talk. I know knots take longer than that, so I need you to think unsexy thoughts.”

 

Derek took in another deep breath and felt himself slowly relax. Stiles might have been using his spark mojo, but Derek didn't care. Or maybe it was that he smelled so damn good and felt even better and Derek's knot was pressed against his thigh. Either way, with the demand to talk on hold, Derek relaxed against him and just _existed_. In fact, he possibly did it a bit too well, because he started drifting mentally. He was still awake, but his mind was on clear hiatus.

 

“Hey, are you awake?” Stiles asked softly, scritching the back of his head with his nails.

 

“Mmm... mostly,” Derek replied.

 

Uh oh. Jig was up.

 

“So? Home? Now? Why?” Stiles asked, voice turning perturbed again.

 

“I was upset at work. I told them I had to leave. I think I quit.”

 

“You _think_ you quit?”

 

“My boss wouldn't let me leave so I just walked out. I have PTO. He wouldn't let me use it. He's so fucking phobic and I can't... I can't...”

 

“I've got you,” Stiles breathed, scratching at his scalp and making Derek's entire spine ease up, “Well, coming to work for me would relieve you of a lot of stress, that's for sure, but it isn't the job you _want_ to have so there's also that.”

 

“How can I be a cop when I want to shoot everyone I see?” Derek scoffed.

 

“I have no answer to that that won't make you hate me.”

 

“Cop hater?”

 

“No... not really... I mean, my dad's a sheriff so I'm kinda obligated to _not_ be an ACAB supporter, but I'm a human rights lawyer. I see the ugly side of the police every day. The transgender sex workers who get raped by cops in holding. The families that come to me because the cops heard the vic was gay and shrugged and said 'he probably hit on the wrong guy'. The black queer people who don't survive a fucking _traffic stop_.”

 

“But if only _those_ people sign up to be cops, than that's all the people who _will_ be cops, so if _I_ don't become one because there are too many cops who are, than-”

 

“Hey, hey, I get it. I know there are good cops, but the _system_ is broken. I'm the person working on fixing that. Maybe you keep them in line inside the system, yeah?”

 

“You wouldn't think less of me if I became a cop?”

 

“Why don't you tell me why you want to be one?”

 

Derek snuggled in a bit more. His knot was finally diminishing with the lack of stimuli so he was no longer in discomfort. He was still horny as hell, but that was a different issue and the direction the conversation was taking was going to weed that right out.

 

“Why don't you tell me why you masturbate if you're asexual?”

 

“Nice try, but we're not talking about that. Ever,” Stiles stated.

 

Derek sighed heavily, “When I was a teen my parents, my aunt, and my brother were murdered. It was... it was partly my fault.”

 

“No it wasn't,” Stiles replied, firm and sure.

 

“I was sleeping with the woman who killed them,” Derek told him softly, “You probably think that's gross or something.”

 

“I think her killing your family was gross,” Stiles stated with a touch of anger in his voice.

 

“She was a hunter who didn't follow the code so... phobic people really set me off.”

 

“I can't even imagine,” Stiles soothed.

 

“And... the police... they didn't care. Not only did they not care, they thought we deserved it,” Derek whispered.

 

He waited for Stiles to argue. So many people did. So many immediately, knee-jerk reaction, told him that wasn't true. The police DID care. It was their job. As if that job somehow made them more than human. Not Stiles. Stiles ran his fingers through Derek's hair and waited for him to continue. Derek still felt like he had to justify it, so he did.

 

“Peter was in the hospital and Laura is my age even if she pretends to be older, so none of us were adults and there was a big stall on finding a place that would take us all or deciding if Laura and I were old enough to watch the younger kids. Laura was freshly alpha and kept holding our hands and even though I was sixteen I let her. I felt like I had to be strong for them, but I didn't know what to say or do. I was numb and I just... I kept waiting for the adults to fix it. I think I was in denial. Not Cora. Cora couldn't stop crying. She was _devastated_ and kept looking around for her mother and alpha. She was... eleven, I think. Yeah, eleven. And then as I walked out of the detective's office to get her tissues and a coke I heard all of them laughing in the corner. The detective in charge of our case was mocking Cora, and as I stood at the machine he timed a fake-ass howl with one of her pitiful wails.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Stiles whispered on a sob.

 

“When I got back to the room she'd stopped crying and I never saw her cry again. She turned cold and angry and fucking _resigned_.”

 

“Goddess, Derek,” Stiles gave him a tight squeeze, “How does this make you want to _join them_.”

 

“It doesn't,” Derek breathed, “It makes me want to _replace them_.”

 

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	9. Chapter 9

/text dialogue preceded by name/

 

**STILES: Heeeeyyyy guuuurrrl! I just settled my firsg case by my selfish! I'm celibate ing! Can I have a party tomorrow? I'm gin and coke some friends overcompensating.**

 

**DEREK: Your autocorrect is really out of control, Stiles. I understood about half of that.**

 

**STILES: I am so drunk**

 

**DEREK: I got that part. Do you need a lift home?**

 

**STILES: No, I got a LYFT home. LOL. Get it? Yeah, you got it. You got it GOING ON!**

 

Derek couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up, which of course made his sister stare at him in absolute shock. Cora and Laura were over at Derek's place for lunch, both to scold him for quit/losing his job and to bolster his confidence as he planned for the future. Derek had told them about Stiles plans to hire him, but that had led to a discussion about Stiles being asexual. Derek couldn't tell them that he had caught the man masturbating, but his blush had them guessing that _something_ had happened. That had led to Cora googling asexual, which led to Laura and Cora opening whine to discuss sex, sexuality, and boys in general while Derek sat silently in bored misery. Then Stiles had started texting him, drunk off his ass at 2 in the afternoon, and Derek had gone all gooey like the sap he secretly was.

 

“Holy shit, Derek,” Cora put her wine down on the table, “That website better be right, because you are _gone_ on this guy.”

 

“I've never seen you like this. I've _literally_ never seen you like this!” Laura shook her head, dismayed, “Derek, he could really hurt you.”

 

“He's not going to,” Derek replied, eyes roaming around the room, “But if he keeps throwing his shit all over our place I might hurt him. He's a fucking slob.”

 

“Oh, god, _Der_ ,” Cora whined.

 

“What?” He glanced back and forth at their constipated, distressed faces.

 

“You said _our place,”_ Laura worried her bottom lip, “Derek, you've known him a week. This is _ridiculous_.”

 

“It's been longer than that.”

 

“If you count him walking into your shop!” Cora sputtered.

 

“I do,” Derek stated firmly, “That was an integral introduction to his personality. He got _dumped_ that day and handled it with petty flower humor. That's _important shit._ ”

 

Cora looked amused but Laura obviously wanted to argue. Before she could start in on him the phone rang and Derek gaped at it. Nobody called him. Ever. He half expected it to be his work begging him to return, but instead it was the subject of their discussion.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Derek stated, deciding to answer it and give them some more insight into who his mate was.

 

“What's up hot stuff!” Stiles crowed, voice a bit slow with drink.

 

“You're on speaker phone Stiles,” Derek informed him while his sisters looked disgusted. He'd forgotten that they hadn't seen his text about celebrating. This probably looked _worse_ , “So behave.”

 

“Or what sourwolf,” Stiles slurred, “You'll spank me?”

 

“Okay, he's not asexual,” Cora argued immediately.

 

“Oi, fuck you!” Stiles spat out.

 

“Stiles!” Derek snapped.

 

“She started it!”

 

“You can't talk to my baby sister like that, Stiles,” Derek insisted, “Listen, you called with good news, right? To celebrate? I don't want to fight with you, I-”

 

“Fuck me!” Stiles ordered, and then paused while they all stared at the phone in confused horror, “I mean fight... asterisk... me... damn autocorrect.”

 

“Stiles, this is a verbal conversation,” Derek glared at the phone.

 

“You're a verbal conversation,” Stiles argued.

 

“That doesn't even...” Derek sighed, “You texted me that you were _celebrating_ something? Which explains your drunkenness at 2 in the afternoon?”

 

“Yes! Yes, I am! I won my first case solo!! It was just a minor name change case, but still. I did it with my own fucking practice like a damn pro! But not the prostitute kind of pro. Even though asexuals can _totally do that.”_

 

“I'm hanging up now,” Derek sighed.

  
“Party at your house!” Stiles shouted, cheering so loudly the phone cut out.

 

Derek hung up and avoided looking at his sisters and the Hale Eyebrows of Judgement.

 

“Leave,” Derek stated.

 

“Okay,” Laura stated sharply, knowing full well her point had been made.

 

The two ladies left him with his aconite wine and self consciousness. His phone chimed again and Derek dove for it, hoping for more from Stiles, but this time it was from Cora. It was the stuff she'd been looking at about asexual people.

  
_a·sex·u·al_

_/āˈsekSH(o͞o)əl/Submit_

_adjective_

_1._

_without sexual feelings or associations._

_"asexual individuals may still experience attraction but this attraction doesn't need to be realized in any sexual manner"_

_2._

_BIOLOGY_

_(of reproduction) not involving the fusion of gametes._

_"each polyp is capable of budding new polyps though asexual reproduction in spring"_

_noun_

_1._

_a person who has no sexual feelings or desires._

 

Okay. Nothing new there. Seemed like what he'd originally assumed, but Stiles had pointed out several times in various ways that it wasn't correct so... what was?

 

Urban Dictionary had some... interesting results. Apparently there were asexuals with different levels of sexual... interest? Comfort? Tolerance? It was clear that there was no sexual attraction to people, but apparently some of them were okay with sex, might even enjoy it, but others were repulsed by it. Derek was starting to see why Stiles had been frustrated. He'd made assumptions, but Stiles had pretty quickly pulled back and looked uncomfortable when Derek had flirted. He'd avoided watching sex scenes in every movie they'd watched, even going so far as to sigh and cover his eyes. If he wasn't sex repulsed, why would he do those things?

 

Derek needed to talk to him, but talking? That was not a thing Derek did well, and he'd already opened up far more than he wanted to in such a short period of time. Or maybe it was time for _Stiles_ to talk. He'd done a lot of hinting and flirting, but not a lot of _explaining_. Derek needed to know where they stood, but he didn't know how to ask for that without causing trouble and he was already stressed out because of his job.

 

Back burner. As always, his love life took the back burner. For now Stiles was letting him hold him, so his inner wolf was comforted in knowing that Stiles smelled like him. It was enough. Platonic mates was enough.

 

 

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	10. Chapter 10

Full moon meant running in the nearest park; nose down, tail up. This was the first time that Derek was running with the new pack as well as his own, but the full moon always put his usual social hatred on hold. He was wild, running, howling, and tearing around the woods in joy. Stiles joined them, because of course he did, bundled up in loads of layers that he slowly stripped off and had to find again by morning since all the running about made him too warm.

 

Stiles was energetic as hell. He ran here and there, unable to keep up with them but willing to just charge in whichever direction they were headed until they returned and crossed paths again. When he got too tired Derek crouched down and coaxed him into riding him like a horse. Stiles' face lit up like Christmas, which was fitting since Christmas was a week away and Derek felt like celebrating for the first time in a long time.

 

Morning had them collapsing at the Hale Pack House in a pile of blankets, pillows, and fur. Stiles changed into gray wolf footie pajamas, threw himself down between Derek and Scott, and passed out instantly. Derek froze. He stared down at Stiles' body stretched between them and at Scott who was a laid back alpha, so dissimilar from Laura, and didn't know if he could do this. Be in this pack. Be the close knit packmate that Scott wanted, be the flirty mate that Stiles wanted, be the rock that Laura and Cora wanted. He felt _displaced._

 

Scott reached out and slowly, as if dealing with a wild animal, wrapped his fingers firmly around Derek's wrist. He met Derek's eyes and smiled softly as he gently pulled his arm over Stiles and rested it on Scott's shoulder. Scott laid down and snuggled up against Stiles' back. Derek slid closer, tucking Stiles beneath his chin and feeling his breath on his neck. His inner wolf curled up and wuffed in peace. His mate was in his arms. Soft and... well, no, actually he was all elbows and knees. Derek was fairly certain he had more than he was allotted, but he was _here_. With Derek. In his arms. Safe and comfortable and smelling of contentment and crisp winter air.

 

_Oh god, I love him._

 


	11. Chapter 11

The next day was all about recovery, and the day after that Stiles was working overtime. Derek texted him asking about work but Stiles didn't reply for the entire day so Derek sucked up his self respect and logged onto the internet to search for a job. He couldn't go back to _that_ flower shop, but he could go to others. Derek spent hours filling out forms and creating accounts to apply for jobs. After four hours he'd managed three whole applications. Fuck the system that had him upload a resume and then _type it out again_ in fill form. Fuck fill forms, period.

 

Derek was just about to crack open the harsh aconite liquor reserves when Stiles walked in the door, near on to midnight, with a suit bag in one arm and a grin on his clearly exhausted face.

 

“Hey there, honeywolf!” Stiles chirped, “How's my favorite rage machine?”

 

“I hate the entire world and I wish it had ended in 2000 like I was promised.”

 

Stiles nodded, “Feeling nihilistic. Loving it. I've got something that will perk you up!”

 

“If that's a matching wolf onesie I will burn it and then this entire building down.”

 

“No you wouldn't,” Stiles replied, tossing the bag down and flopping onto the couch, “You love this loft more than life itself.”

 

“That's true,” Derek admitted, then glanced towards the bag and used his eyebrows to make his point.

 

“Yes,” Stiles slapped his legs and then stood up, “The bag! Remember I said my dad was a Sheriff? I asked him about you and he got in touch with some of the people at the nearby precinct and guess what?”

 

“You got me my dream job?” Derek snorted in disbelief.

 

“Yeah, no. That's not a thing. You'd have to go to academy and shit, and you still do, but what I found out is that there's essentially a shortcut for you. Due to some, like, attempts at making the world a more equal fucking place they are legit looking for werewolves to join their department.”

 

“I'm hearing a but?”

 

“Buuuut, as a consultant. Basically you take a six month course and it enables you to be on the force as a ride-along. Your nose becomes their CSI kit or whatever. You can advocate for werewolves in this position, though. I looked into it. It's a pretty flexible option. You can fight The Man and _be_ The Man.”

 

“Like that show 'Psychic'?”

 

“Yes, but probably less funny and more with the blood and guts.”

 

Derek wanted more details, but judging by the way Stiles was bouncing and he was jobless he should go with the flow for a change. Derek stood up and picked up the garment bag and frowned at it.

 

“Six months without a job...”

 

“Six months of training,” Stiles told him, “My business is doing well. I'll cover the rent for a bit. You can help me out at the office occasionally. What are mates for?”

 

Derek swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. Stiles had grown up in a pack so he knew what mates meant and had thrown himself in full tilt. Of course, from what he'd gleaned from his pack's side chatter- people tended to forget he was lurking nearby- he'd done the same with Lydia and essentially started planning their marriage before getting her approval.

 

Derek nodded briefly and went upstairs, more to compose himself than because he needed any kind of privacy. Werewolves didn't do nudity taboo. Derek put on the uniform and even donned the vest that he assumed he wouldn't really need for at least the first part of training. He had a club for self defense and a belt with several pockets and pouches that clipped shut. He'd probably need to carry a weapon of some sort once he was certified, but for now it was mostly empty. It wasn't a police uniform, but a generic black one similar to, but more severe than, something a security guard would wear. There was a spot for a name patch that was currently blank. Derek put on his work boots and headed downstairs where Stiles stared at him, mouth agape in shocked silence for several seconds.

 

“What?” Derek huffed.

 

“Excuse me, I tried to steal your heart. Can you arrest me?” Stiles asked, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth.

 

“Can't steal what's freely given,” Derek replied smoothly.

 

“Oh my god, _you can flirt!_ I'm so proud of you right now, you don't even know.”

 

“I can flirt,” Derek replied, tensing up at the idea of talking at this point. He wasn't ready to. It felt too much like imminent rejection, even though Stiles had made himself right at home in his life.

 

Stiles' eyes dropped and he stepped forward to take Derek's hand, “I spent _years_ with Lydia and even though I know now that _you're_ the one I'm supposed to be with this is still... it's a fresh wound. I'm just not ready, Derek.”

 

“I'm not either,” Derek replied honestly, “I can wait for... whatever I'm waiting for.”

 

Stiles laughed lightly, “Yeah, a platonic relationship. Wow! I'm becoming an asexual stereotype!”

 

Derek frowned in confusion, “You can't change your sexuality, Stiles. I don't regret it. I accept you.”

 

Stiles was the one to give Derek a confused head tilt this time, “Um... no offense dude, because I'm loving the support here, but... it's not _my_ sexuality standing in our way. In case you forgot that _humiliating_ display upstairs, I've got a pretty active sex drive. I'm sex positive.”

 

“Right,” Derek nodded, “Your recent break up. I should have thought-”

 

“No. I mean, yes, that's got me hesitating for now, but no. No, dude, I mean _your_ sexuality.”

 

“Pan?” Derek asked, blinking rapidly.

 

“You... you're _pan_?”

 

“It doesn't mean pans,” Derek stated automatically.

 

“I'm a fucking rights lawyer, I know what it means!” Stiles flailed his hands in the air, “What the hell do you mean you're pan?!”

 

Derek scowled at his antics and then raised his eyebrows incredulously, “What the hell do you mean what the hell do I mean?”

 

“I thought you were straight!” Stiles raged, pacing away from him, “I've been _pining_. I've been trying to convince myself that I can tolerate a lifetime of celibacy! Of just me and the palmer sisters! Oh my _god_ , you're _pan?_ Why didn't you say anyth- wait, am I not attractive to pan guys? Do you find me attractive?”

 

Stiles had gone from pacing to standing in front of him with his hands outstretched in inquiry and Derek mimicked the motion automatically while gaping at him, “You... yeah. Obviously.”

 

“So... we're into each other,” Stiles gestured between them both.

 

“Yes. Yes we are,” Derek nodded.

 

“Holy crap, we're gonna bone so hard when I'm up for it.”

 

Derek barked out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement, “You're ridiculous.”

 

“You know what we should do?”

 

“Therapy?” Derek scoffed pointedly.

 

“No, we should set a time limit.”

 

“A time limit. On your grief over your recently ended long-term relationship.”

 

“Yes, because one can not always live in the past,” Stiles stated, “So. We have sex by your birthday.”

 

Derek laughed again, “That's abrupt. Not 'start dating' not 'discuss things'. No. You're going straight for 'birthday sex'.”

 

“Santa isn't the only one who's coming this Christmas,” Stiles grinned proudly, giving Derek a whiskey pair of bedroom eyes.

 

Derek gave him the incredulous look that deserved, shook his head, and went back upstairs to change into his regular clothes.

 

 

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http://i67.tinypic.com/9ao5y1.jpg


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles was worked overtime and Derek was immersed in training. He had gone into the program expecting to be hit left and right with more shifterphobia, but had been pleasantly surprised by their open dialogue. He was in a class with two psychics, a witch, and three other shifters. The program was centered around protocol, safety, and deescalation. He needed to be aware enough to pass a written exam, but officers would be handling the actual situations. Derek would be called in as an advocate in some situations and a walking lab in others.

 

He had Christmas day off, but wasn't free the actual day of his birthday because he was attending a scenting class in LA. Instead he'd called in to talk to Stiles. They'd chatted for a while about Derek's class and he was proud of himself for getting better at talking to Stiles. He talked to his sisters plenty, and the occasional packmate, but talking to Stiles had been very intimidating before he'd understood they were basically on the same page. He still wasn't sure what Stiles' sexuality meant for their sex life, but he knew now that it was something that would happen sometimes. Maybe it would be infrequent, but it would be a _thing_ that _happened_ that they both _wanted_ and that was exciting and gave Derek hope. Not just for sex, but for the connection and the idea that they were closer than before.

 

Finally the conversation turned to Stiles' side and Derek was surprised to find out that he'd been talking for an entire hour.

 

“Proud of you,” Stiles teased lightly, “Listen to you, talking like a big beta!”

 

“Shut up,” Derek huffed.

 

“So... when are you coming home?”

 

Derek frowned, “I didn't say?”

 

“Nope, whole lot of bitching, not a lot of info.”

 

Derek snorted, “I'm not.”

 

“What? Sorry? I didn't hear that in boyfriend speak, I heard that in short-tempered Derek-speak. Gimme the words I wanna hear before I get all offended and cranky from across the country.”

 

Derek sighed through his nose and settled his face into his 'customer' expression because Laura said it made him sound less murder-y.

 

“Babe, I have to stay in LA a bit longer. Sorry.”

 

“Well, you know...”

 

“Know what?” Derek asked suspiciously.

 

“Roses are red, violets are blue...”

 

“Oh no.”

 

“I'm using my hand, but I'm thinking of you.”

 

Derek wanted to be disgusted or annoyed, but frankly the visual of Stiles getting fucked by a toy was still very, very fresh in his mind.

 

“Well,” Derek stated, “I'm waiting.”

 

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed heavily into the phone, “Seriously? Shy boy is initiating phone sex?”

 

“I'm introverted, not shy. I'm not afraid of social contact, I just want to kill everyone I speak to.”

 

“That weirdly doesn't kill my buzz,” Stiles replied, “Um... we should probably talk sex drive and sex contact first.”

 

“Okay,” Derek agreed, sitting down on his bed, “Obviously I'm still a bit confused. I know that asexual people have sex drives now- or some do- but I don't understand the difference between sex drive and sexual attraction.”

 

“Okay, so don't take offense to this,” Stiles stated, “But I don't actually find you attractive. Shit! Not that you're not! Fuck. I'm so bad at this. Ok. Attracted is not what I do. Like, I can see _visually_ that you're a very pretty man, but it does nothing for me.”

 

“Okay,” Derek frowned, staring down at his wilting erection.

 

“Seriously. It's not you, it's me. Literally,” Stiles insisted, “So where I'm at is that I pick people based on personality. They just happen to be beautiful.”

 

Derek snorted.

 

“Seriously,” Stiles insisted, “I swear. The magic was GONE between Lydia and I the second she showed her true colors. Like, I found her _gross_. Immediately. Like, ew, how did I ever touch that?”

 

“So you like me for my personality?” Derek asked incredulously.

 

“Yes, grumble grumble, I like you for your personality. You're my _mate_ you were made for me. Think about it. I never shut the fuck up. You never talk. You're strong. I'm emotional. You're physical. I'm tactical. You're this quiet rock that I can snuggle against late in the evening while you read, and I'm the person who makes you laugh. That's so much more intense than sex.”

 

“Sex to me...” Derek struggled, “It's about marking you. Claiming you as mine. It's not just about release, because I can get that myself, it's about you smelling like me and having my scruff marks all over your neck and shoulder.”

 

“That's hot,” Stiles' voice was breathy again, “I like that. Let's keep that going. Sex for me is about connection. It's about celebrating the things that you and I do and... to a lesser extent... and please don't ever take advantage of this... meeting your needs.”

 

“So, you don't enjoy it when it's with someone else?”

 

“I do, usually, but there _will_ be times when I just lay back and think of lawyer books, _and that's okay._ ”

 

Derek was silent, not sure how to react to that. It wasn't hot... but it was a bit. He could just go to town and Stiles would be pliant and _his_... but then again, he also wouldn't be responsive. He wouldn't wind his arms around Derek's neck and beg for more. Grip his hips with his thighs.

 

“Say something,” Stiles pleaded, sounding anxious, “Because as ace as I am, I'm not poly. I can't... I can't have you going off to sate yourself somewhere else. I'm greedy like that.”

 

“Being monogamous isn't greedy,” Derek stated firmly, “I'm just picturing it. Trying to decide if it's something I'll be into.”

 

“I mean, Lydia was. She used to put on the strap on and fuck me until I couldn't stand it anymore. I'm still not clear what she got out of it? I think the strap on rubbed her clit or something and-”

 

“Stop,” Derek growled, “I don't even like that she touched you.”

 

“Ew, neanderthal. I'm not virginal. Lydia wasn't even my first.”

 

“I know that, and I don't expect you to be. It's instinct. I just don't want to hear about other people, okay? We'll figure our sex lives out ourselves. Just the two of us.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, “That's fine.”

 

“For the record though, because we're on the subject and you're going to find this out anyway, I'm known as a bit of a slut.”

 

“Well, yeah, you were waiting for me to come around,” Stiles stated, sure of himself as always.

 

Derek barked out a laugh, “God, I love you.”

 

Silence.

 

 _Shit_.

 

“Okay, yeah, we can totally work the sex thing out, because you already hacked how to get my pants off,” Stiles groaned throatily, “tell me you're alone?”

 

Derek glanced at the clock. His room mate had gone out an hour before hand to get plastered. He'd be out till 3 in the morning before attending the expo the next morning at fuck-me-O-clock. Who the hell knew how he managed, but it was convenient as hell considering it _was_ Derek's birthday and he wasn't going to get to see Stiles until nearly Christmas.

 

“Yeah, I'm alone,” Derek replied, popping the button on his jeans in expectation.

 

“Good, because I want to read you this exert from Thoreau and it's really long.”

 

Derek shoved his underwear down as well. Fuck it, he'd work with it, “Go ahead. I'm listening.”

 

“Oh my Lucifer, you fucking nerd. I'm joking. We're having phone sex.”

 

“I mean, I was going to regardless, so...”

 

“Mm, you are a dirty boy,” Stiles teased.

 

“Wow, you're bad at this,” Derek laughed, palming his balls, “You're actually better at your reflexive flirting.”

 

“Yes, keep insulting me. It makes me hot like _uhhhh_ ,” Stiles moaned.

 

Derek's cock twitched and he smirked a bit. He needed to get Stiles out of silly mode because he wanted to hear that moan for real, “I want to bite every mole on your body.”

 

“I have one on my ass,” Stiles replied, because ADHD was a bitch and so was Stiles.

 

“Good,” Derek taunted, “It will be the perfect midway goal to me eating your ass.”

 

Stiles breathed hard, “Oh, I could be down for that.”

 

“You've never had your ass ate?” Derek asked, not sure he wanted to know for real.

 

“Not so much, no,” Stiles replied, voice a bit shaky, “It sounds like it would feel amazing.”

 

“It does,” Derek gave himself a slow, dry stroke as he thought of a way to describe it, “It makes your balls tighten up. Makes me want to be fucked.”

 

“Oh wow, I could fuck you. That's a thing I could do,” Stiles gasped, the sound of flesh gliding across flesh reaching his ears. Stiles was going for gold, no hesitance or finesse on his end.

 

“But _you're_ the one who hasn't had it before,” Derek reminded him, “I want to do it to you first. Do you have lube?”

 

“Yeah, loads. Duh.”

 

“So get a finger wet. Circle your hole. Describe it to me. I want to hear you talk,” Derek purred.

 

“Oh my god, your voice is like _chocolate_. Okay. Getting lube.”

 

There was a bit of fumbling and then Stiles was back, breathing a bit hard as he slicked up a finger and slid it down. For a moment he was just fumbling around and then he was started to speak again.

 

“Okay, this definitely feels good. I usually just go for opening myself up, but this is nice. Like... I'm picturing your tongue, you know? So I can imagine it better.”

 

“Good,” Derek breathed, “Flick your finger side to side. Like I'm teasing that furled hole of yours.”

 

“Oh fuck, how do you not write porn?” Stiles whimpered, “Okay, that's really good. Soooo good, Derek. Fuck.”

 

“Yeah,” Derek sped up a bit, because Stiles sounded gone already, “Yeah, that's it baby, rub it in a circle now. Dip your finger in _just a bit_ and back out again.”

 

Stiles moaned, sincere and deep this time, and Derek's cockhead throbbed. He was going to pop a knot over the fucking _phone_ if Stiles kept this up.

 

“Stiles,” Derek moaned, “Fuck, you sound so good. My knot's...”

 

He wasn't sure how Stiles felt about that, or even how to talk about it. He'd never popped a knot with someone over the phone before and some humans found them scary.

 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, voice pitching higher, “Is it big? Are you going to- fuck- fill me up?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek gasped, his knot swelling tight and hard in the middle of his length, “Yeah, going to get you a proper prostate massage. Really rub you the right way. Milk you.”

 

“Oh gods, I can't... I'm fingering myself. I can't deal with this slow shit, Derek. I want it _in me_.”

 

Stiles was panting, the sound of slick fingers moving in his ass filling the air between them. Derek put the phone on speaker, laid it on the bed beside him, and started using both hands. One squeezed his knot in mimicry of Stiles' tight body. The other teased the head. He rubbed the precome around his damp head, teased the foreskin, and then gave himself several short jerks. He was plummeting fast, but he wanted to come _with_ Stiles, not before him. It was a matter of pride.

 

He needn't have worried. Stiles let out a startled cry, then began to chant his name in a trembling voice as he toppled through his climax.

 

“Derek! Derek! Ah! Derek! P-please! Yes! Fucking _claim me!_ ”

 

Derek roared as he spilled across his chest and stomach. The release was intense. He came for longer with his knot engaged, and the volume was nearly three times as much. Hot fluids splattered up to his neck, pooled on his chest and stomach, dripped into his belly button and down his sides, and slicked up his hand as it continued to work his throbbing length. His eyes rolled and his mouth fell open in a long, hungry moan. He might have said Stiles' name. He might have asked him to marry him. Have his cubs. Be his bitch. It was a blur of unending pleasure in a shockingly good climax.

 

By the time he began to regain his senses Stiles was just whispering soothing words into the phone.

 

“That's it, my mate. Fill me up. I wanna feel it leaking out of my hole for _days_. Going to smell like you. All yours. Oh, fuck, bite my neck, my shoulders, grab my ass hard enough to bruise. Fucking _take me_ , I'm yours. I'm all yours, Derek.”

 

“My mate,” Derek lay sated and exhausted in the bed.

 

“Yours, sourwolf. All yours,” Stiles sighed sleepily, “Gonna sleep now.”

 

Derek smiled a bit, feeling euphoric and silly, “On my knot?”

 

Stiles snorted, “Sure, sexy. Whatever lets you get your best sleep.”

 

“Mm, you sleeping curled up in front of me on my knot.”

 

“That sounds both horrible and wonderful. I wanna try that some day.”

 

“We will,” Derek replied, more sure than he'd been in ages, “We definitely will.”

 

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	13. Chapter 13

Christmas was at the Hale/McCall pack house, the two fully merged and eager to enjoy each other's company. It was a huge crowd and Derek instantly had a headache, but was surprised to find that he was having... fun? Stiles was acting as his buffer instinctively by running around like a social hummingbird. He hugged everyone, nuzzled up with pack members until he smelled like a cocktail of delicious pack pheromones. Whenever he took on their scent Derek would pull him over and layer his scent with theirs. Stiles' hair was taking on his static personality and Derek was just soaking it in. By the time they left the party they were both tired, Derek less-so than his usual drained state, but happy and content with their bonding.

 

“That was fun,” Stiles grinned, “You dealt with it well, you doing okay?”

 

“I'm jet lagged. Not drained like I usually would be,” Derek pulled Stiles in with a smile, glad that they'd reached the point of more than casual touch, “You really made things easier.”

 

“You know what I just realized?” Stiles asked, eyelids heavy, “We've never even kissed.”

 

“For the record, you were the one who wanted to go from roommates to sex,” Derek pointed out, cupping his cheek, “May I?”

 

“Oh my gods, you're so fucking cute. Yes, you may kiss me.”

 

Derek drew him in closer with one strong arm around his slender waist. He touched his nose to Stiles' sharp one for a moment. He cupped the back of Stiles' head and tilted it back to press a slow, chaste kiss to his lips. He wasn't sure what Stiles would like, but a careful sweep of his tongue had his lips parting. Tongues slid together and Derek's hips twitched forward in desire. Stiles giggled a bit against his mouth, but Derek ignored it in favor of kissing his brains out. Stiles lifted his arms finally and wrapped them around Derek's shoulders. He was surprisingly muscular for his narrow frame and Derek was looking forward to feeling him writhe beneath him.

 

Derek broke the kiss, leaning back to smile down into Stiles' expressive face, “I have something to ask you.”

 

“Really? Cause Cora said you were saving it till New Years.”

 

“She's dead to me,” Derek grumbled, “But no, that's not it.”

 

“Okay, go ahead.”

 

“So, Mieczyslaw...”

 

Stiles reeled back in horror, “ _Oh my god_ , how did you even-?”

 

“... How about you mieczy _slide_ into my bed?”

 

“Oh, my god, take me now!” Stiles cackled, “I'm half hard already. Gimme something to make my body sing,” Stiles insisted, and then switched to a whisper, “I'm hoping for your dick.”

 

Derek grabbed two handfuls of plump ass and lifted him up, encouraging Stiles to wrap his legs around Derek's waist. Derek laughed as they headed for the stairs. They'd kept their beds separate, but Derek had often rolled around on Stiles' bed so that it smelled like him. Stiles knew and was cool enough to not make a thing about it.

 

Derek dropped Stiles down into his bed, relieved to finally have his mate in his most personal space. He was hopeful that Stiles would stay in it from now on.

 

“Whoa, so many pillows!” Stiles rolled around in the bed, making Derek feel warm all over, “Come here, big guy!”

 

Derek crawled into the bed, fighting down a yawn as he stalked Stiles. Stiles was _not_ about to let that pass and snickered at his attempts at seductively approaching while tired.

 

“I just flew across the country!” Derek groaned.

 

“You're so cute,” Stiles smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek, “C'mere, sexy beast.”

 

Derek pressed Stiles down to the bed to rub up on him some more. Stiles was sweet beneath him, soft and nubile as he stretched and wrapped himself around Derek. Their motions were soothing and sweet, so Derek's fantasy of fucking him cross eyed was not happening that night. Instead he peeled Stiles' clothes off, kissing every mole from head to ankle. Stiles was eager to get Derek's' clothes off as well, but let him have his fun first. Derek was enjoying scenting his mate and the slow build of desire was keeping him awake and setting the pace.

 

Derek was finally getting to see Stiles' magical tattoos in all their glory, and it was downright distracting. Most of them were animals, those that Stiles chose or that chose him based on his energy, and they were just as flirty as Stiles was. While he ran his hands over Stiles' shapely ass and nibbled on his back the fox kept darting around his shoulders waving it's little tail and flashing it's asshole at him. It wasn't a very detailed drawing in that area so it just looked like an X. It made Derek laugh more than once and Stiles eventually got annoyed enough to ask what was so funny about his _gorgeous ass._

 

“Your fox keeps mooning me,” Derek chortled.

 

“He's not _mooning_ you, that's how they say hello!”

 

“I'm eating your ass, not his.”

 

“ _She_ is named Kira, and she's going to behave herself!” Stiles swatted at his own shoulder and Derek fell apart laughing.

 

He did eventually make it down to Stiles' pucker, but he took his sweet time getting there. They were rushing their relationship because there was simply no point in waiting longer, but he was damned if he was going to rush their first time together. He spread Stiles' cheeks, blew gently on his hole to wake up his skin, and began to slide his tongue around the pert hole while Stiles whimpered and moaned. He was groaning constantly, his hips twitching back to press his taint against Derek's chin.

 

Derek reached beneath Stiles to fondle his balls, rolling the orbs in his palm while Stiles gasped and pleaded for him to get it over with already. Derek was far from done with him, so he gave Stiles a gentle squeezes to calm him down. Stiles was fucking the air by the time Derek decided that if he kept going their lovemaking would end too soon. He broke away, ignoring Stiles' petulant cry, and tapped his hip to get him to roll onto his back.

 

Finally Derek let him strip the werewolf's clothes off, and Stiles' tactile personality was glorious. Derek closed his eyes and reveled in Stiles' hands moving over his body. His nipples were especially sensitive and Stiles figured that out fast and began teasing them enthusiastically. Derek was content to crouch over him on hands and knees while Stiles fondled him.

 

“You look so relaxed,” Stiles whispered, “This is beautiful, Derek. Thank you.”

 

“Hm?” Derek opened his eyes and looked down at where Stiles sat with legs splayed and hands roaming his flesh.

 

“Most people they- I know you don't like to hear this but it's important- they think they can _fix me_. So they do this thing where they try to sort of... fuck me into liking sex. But I already like sex, I just don't find _people_ attractive. I save sex for people I love. Well... an individual werewolf from now on. The point is... sweet and tender is way better than trying to bend me over and make me see stars. If you're doing it right that will already happen.”

 

“I do like it rough sometimes,” Derek told him hesitantly.

 

“Me too,” Stiles smiled, “But not when you're forcing it, or trying to convince me of some silly point, and not for my first time with you. I want to be held, Derek. Hold me?”

 

“Forever,” Derek replied, laying across him with a small smile.

 

They kissed slowly while Derek fumbled for the lube. When he got it he knelt back up to soak his fingers and cock before reaching down to work Stiles open. His mate dragged his legs up, folding himself in half and reminding Derek of all the fucking yoga classes the pretentious little shit took. Maybe Derek shouldn't have dismissed them so lightly.

 

Stiles opened easily, his cock dripping onto his abdomen as he pleaded for _more_ and _now._ Derek was achingly hard by the time he deemed him ready to take a knot and lay over him to press slowly into his body. Condoms for now. No one was ready for a cub so soon.

 

It never failed to shock Derek how tight and hot another person's body was while he was fucking them. He seemed to forget in between, and now was no exception. He spent a few moments stunned and gasping, trying not to blow his load before he or his knot were ready. He wanted Stiles to feel _good_ , and he wanted his mate to be tied to him.

 

Derek lay fully over Stiles, encouraging him to wrap his legs around him instead of continue in the contorted position he'd held. It would be better for knotting and he wanted to really _hold_ him, and be held. Stiles' legs and arms gripped Derek as tightly as his ass and the older man was quickly lost to pleasure. He let himself moan, holding back nothing as he lay his full weight on Stiles' body and slowly moved within him. Stiles whimpered and moaned beneath him, his hard cock trapped between their bodies and at the mercy of what little it could get. Derek would get him off while he was knotted.

 

Stiles' teeth dug into Derek's shoulder as they moved together, body's sinuous and straining to merge together. Derek could feel his shaft thickening further, that heady sensation of even more blood rushing south that made him momentarily giddy and euphoric.

 

“Stiles, Stiles, mine. My Stiles. My mate. Mine,” He gasped out, voice straining as his knot began to fill.

 

“Oh goddess, yes!” Stiles cried out, ass clenching as Derek stilled inside of him, “Oh my _Lilith,_ I can _feel_ it!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Derek chanted, brain gone on pleasure. He was nearly there. Nearly, _there_.

 

Derek's world exploded in color, his back tensing as his balls emptied for days. He would fill Stiles up almost uncomfortably full as he pulsed into his body for nearly half an hour. The long, drawn out orgasm started out blindingly intense, but soon became a slow, pleasant burn. When some semblance of rational had returned to him he reached between their bodies, still panting as his own climax would continue for much longer, and reached for Stiles' member. His mate was whimpering, hot, sweaty body tense beneath him as his p-spot was mercilessly milked. His cock was drooling between them, come pressed out of his body without a proper climax to relieve him. Once Derek wrapped his hands around his straining length Stiles finished with a broken cry.

 

“Oh _FUCK!”_ Stiles screamed, body bowing in pleasure, “Oh god, oh fuck, oh Derek, yes! Oh!”

 

Stiles went limp with a whimper, boneless beneath him as little twitches and rippling aftershocks moved through him. Derek lay over him, letting himself dwell in the moment now that his mate had been sated. He was in heaven, his mind clear and his body slowly sending wave after wave of happy hormones to his brain. Everything was _breed, breed, breed_ , and his mate was tied to him until his knot released.

 

Derek lost all sense of time. Everything was boiled down to the scent of his mate, their tied bodies, and the throbbing of his length, the gentle glide of tongues and flesh. He shivered and moaned and occasionally touched Stiles' distended belly. Eventually he slept, small sounds of pleasure likely slipping from his lips. When his knot began to recede he had to gather himself together, grip the rim of the condom, and carefully slip free so that the prophylactic came with his shrinking cock.

 

“Oh wow, that was a lot,” Stiles breathed, stretching as Derek tied off the condom full of fluids, “Wow, that was _really_ a lot. No offense, but ew. I don't want all that in me.”

 

Derek laughed it off. He knew Stiles didn't mean to hurt. They'd talked quite a bit since his birthday and he'd found out that Stiles had quite a few limitations for sex. Name calling, humiliation, and other more common ones, but also he found ejaculate on or in his body to be gross. Derek dropped the condom in the trash can and returned to help his mate rise. They staggered downstairs together, giddy and laughing together, to wash in the shower with tired motions. Derek didn't remember returning to the bed, but when he woke up to find Stiles curled up in his arms the joy he felt was overwhelming.

 

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	14. Chapter 14

ONE YEAR LATER

 

Stiles walked into the Hale/McCall house to find Derek and Laura in the midst of lunch together. He was dragging a young man with him who Derek recognized from pictures as Scott's beta. The boy had been away at college in California on a scholarship and missed most of the past year. When he had visited it had been to bond with their alpha, visit his parents, and head back as fast as possible. Since Derek didn't attend all pack meetings so he hadn't met the guy yet.

 

“Hey, Derek, meet Liam,” Stiles motioned between them.

 

Derek glanced up and nodded, mouth full of sandwich. The guy gave Derek a slow up and down, visibly undressing him with his eyes, before turning to Stiles with a saucy grin.

 

“Stiles, who is this big, attractive and damn sexy guy?”

 

Well. That sounded like a set up if ever Derek had heard of one, and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion to show he thought as much. Stiles proceeded without being the least bit daunted.

 

“Oh, this is my ex-boyfriend.”

 

Liam nodded in understanding and leered harder, clearly planning on turning up the smolder.

 

“Stiles, I told you to stop calling me that,” Derek sighed, “I'm his _husband_.”

 

Liam grimaced and Stiles cackled, per usual, before throwing himself at Derek and stealing the pickle off his plate.

 

“Hey, I was saving that,” Derek scowled.

 

“Mine now.”

 

“I'll give you a pickle,” Derek nipped at his ear.

 

“No way, I put out last week. You have to wait, like, three more weeks.”

 

“Just three, huh?” Derek chortled, kissing Stiles' neck and enjoying his mate's scent behind his ears and in his hair, “But it's Christmas! That means it's our fuckiversary!”

 

“Oh my gosh, it is!” Stiles cackled.

 

“I'm just... gonna go...” Liam muttered, shifting away from them as Stiles began to sing.  


“Last Christmas, I gave you my ass! And your big thick knot, tore it apart!”

 

Derek gave him a look of horror and shook his head, “I'm gonna go, too.”

 

“Nooooo! Derek!” Stiles whined, “LOVE ME!”

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	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue

 

Stiles did end up moving into Derek's bed, but he kept his own space and Derek was thankful for that because he had a space to just _toss_ Stiles' shit into when he started to let it leak out all over the flat. Laura expressed more than once that she thought they were moving too fast, but the fact that Stiles was his _mate_ made it null and void. Derek was going to end up with him no matter what, and so far Stiles had made him happier than he'd ever been. If Stiles wasn't pumping the breaks Derek wouldn't either.

 

Stiles' practice was going well and Cora had come around to liking the spark. She still thought Derek was crazy, but the two of them had lunch together and texted, so Derek thought things were going well enough. Stiles had the occasional social party at Derek's loft, but he was always good about letting him know that it was going on and telling him when it would end. Derek would go to the park or make only the briefest of appearances, more so everyone there would know that Stiles' flirty ass belonged to Derek.

 

They didn't have sex often. Stiles' sex drive was active, but he preferred to masturbate most of the time and felt sex was invasive and too much 'work' when it came to clean up. Stiles was pretty clear that Derek could expect sex tops once a month, but probably not even that often. Derek had started out foolishly thinking he'd _never_ get to have the man, so he was absolutely fine with it being a rare occurrence. Stiles was notably self-conscious about it, so when their first New Years came around, and the day that Derek had planned on popping the question passed, Stiles was left frustrated and scared. Derek still planned on proposing, but Cora had leaked the time and now he needed a new plan. He wasn't in a rush, but Stiles apparently was.

 

Ten minutes after the clock struck midnight and the ball dropped Stiles was staring at Derek with real fear in his eyes, and Derek was regretting not bringing the collar he'd purchased with him to the Hale/McCall pack house for the party. Stiles was a bit buzzed and apparently decided that he was going to fix things himself which... was rarely a good thing, to be honest.

 

Cue Stiles banging on a champagne glass until it broke and then climbing up on top of a chair. Derek rescued him from losing an eye by confiscating the glass stem, but then was out of the room for most of Stiles' ridiculous speech while he disposed of it. He heard it. It was a long rant on loyalty and love being about more than sex or whose room was messier. Laura was trying to get him off the chair when Derek returned, and Stiles turned to him to hold up his hand as if he still had his drink. He blinked at it blearily and then gave up and held up his middle finger instead.

 

“Derek Hale, you're my mate and I'm yours and you were supposed to propose to me today but you suck so I'm doing it.”

 

“Okay,” Derek nodded.

 

“Now, hear me out!” Stiles argued.

 

“Dude, I think that was a yes,” Scott hissed at him, “Just get off the chair before you die.”

 

“Shut up Scott, stop cock blocking me. Reasons to be married to me: Number one: No one will try to steal me from you. Number two: I'm funny sometimes. That's... that's it. That's why you should marry me. So. Marry me, Derek. I'm... I'm in fucking love with you and I don't even remember anyone before you because they didn't fit like you do. So... say Yes to the Dress?”

 

“I'm not wearing a dress,” Derek replied, reaching out to encourage him to climb down, “Come down from there.”

 

“Say yes!”

 

“Yes, you idiot, I'll marry you.”

 

“I didn't buy a collar cause I thought you did.”

 

“I did. It's at home.”

 

“I'm gonna wear it _everywhere_.”

 

“Good for you.”

 

“It is good for me, because people won't hit on me anymore.”

 

“Doubtful.”

 

 

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